


This Won't Be on the Quiz

by starbox



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Avengers AU, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, but in an AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbox/pseuds/starbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oscar Wilde once said that "Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."  But in Loki's case everybody he knows is a teacher. And sometimes they have a difficult time just turning it off.</p><p>In which Thor gets a job at Vindicare Preparatory School and becomes fast friends with all the quirky people on the staff, while Loki gets stuck with the short, bar-hopping electrical engineering teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roomates Should Know the Worst About Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this because I see a lot of fic with the Avengers as students but I feel like there isn't as much that casts them as teachers. It's a way to get some of my beloved hipster!Loki in there too, so beware the snide remarks and v-neck tee shirts. This will feature some hard-core bromance (and unrequited longing) between Thor and Loki but it will eventually (if things work as they should) become partially Frostiron. It will also stay pretty PG or PG-13 for the most part and if not I'll warn you on that chapter. Chapters will likely be on the short side (between 2,000 and 2,500 words) but I plan to update pretty often.

It was the third apartment they had toured that day.  Thor was optimistic—third time’s the charm—but Loki was skeptical about the neighborhood.    
    “Look at the minivans lining the street, Thor. There are going to be kids and nosy mothers and community events, not band nights or fun coffee places.”  
    “It’s not like you can’t find those things in a separate location.  They also aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”    
    Thor glanced at Loki.  “Unless the clubs you’re thinking of are different than the ones I’m thinking of.”  
    Loki smiled slightly at this but shook his head.  “Not for the most part. Your friends all think I’m much more dirty fun than I really am.”  
    “No, they--”  
    “They do, Thor, they do,” sighed Loki dismissively.  
    Thor stayed silent and they walked another block before reaching a tall brick apartment complex.  The fire escapes trailing down the side of the building were a bit rusty, and the bricks were definitely worn, but Thor thought it looked pretty good compared to the last two places they had seen.  His choice of words had been “quite worn” and “a fixer-upper”; Loki had called the first location “a shit hole” and the second “an embarrassment to the realty profession.” Loki’s right eyebrow twitched upward at the odd mauve color of the main door, but he said nothing.  Once they entered the slightly dark elevator though, Loki couldn’t hold his tongue.  
    “This lift gives me the creeps.”  He stood voluntarily close to Thor, his slender arms crossed over his chest.  
     “You watch too many horror films,” Thor said as he leaned against the elevator’s metallic wall, angling his body toward Loki.      
    “Ew, don’t do the jock locker lean over me, Thor.  And who’s the one who screamed like a girl during _The Ring_?”    
    “It was a cheap jump scare,” protested Thor, straightening up. “You told me that film was too good to have jump scares so I wasn’t expecting it.”  
    “They’re only cheap if they happen over and over and you’re expecting them. There’s a difference.”  
    “Oh.”  
    Loki rolled his eyes, but when the elevator stopped on the sixth floor he blew through the barely opened doors. They found the apartment (number 607) and Thor knocked on the solid wood door while Loki checked for cell phone reception.    
    “Ugh. It’s really sketch, but it’s here. I’m picking up 3G too, so it’s better than in the shit hole.”      
    “Cool.”  
    The door opened and a tallish woman smiled at them.    
    “Hi! You must be Mr. Odinson and Mr. Laufeyson!”  
    “Yes, that’s us,” said Thor with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”  
    Thor placed a firm hand on Loki’s shoulder (he was still on his phone) and Loki lifted his face to smile dazzlingly at the woman and shake her hand.  Then he promptly threw Thor a glare from behind her back. He wandered off to see the apartment on his own while Thor followed the realtor, whose name was Alison.  
    Alison was chipper and knew her stuff but Thor kept wondering where Loki had gone off to. He expressed interest in the apartment after a few minutes though and Alison positively glowed.  They got to talking about the local restaurants and cafes, Thor making sure to ask about live music spots for Loki.    


 

    After a bit, he found himself standing on the balcony with Alison as she pointed places out to him. This evidently meant she had to touch his arm and then point to something.  She was still smiling and he couldn’t help returning her apparent good spirits with a grin, but he felt a bit uncomfortable with how close she was standing.  She was laughing at something not-very-witty that he had said about the mauve front door when Loki shoved the balcony door open with a bang.  
    “Oh gosh, I didn’t realize that would open so easily,” he said, his hand raised to his mouth and his bright eyes innocently wide.  
    “Ah, hello, Mr. Laufeyson. I was just telling Th--Mr. Odinson how the minivans are only here because of an event being held on the next block.”  
    “That’s nice to hear,” Loki said, moving in between Alison and Thor and looping his arm through Thor’s.  
     Thor’s entire body tensed and he looked at Loki for some clue as to what he was playing. Loki looked back up at him with a satisfied smile.  He then brushed a bit of hair away from Thor’s shocked eyes and tucked it gently behind his ear.  Alison nearly gawped but moved back by two steps.  
    Loki smiled at Alison and asked lightly, “So how’s the plumbing?”

 

    In the end they said they were seriously considering it but that they had a couple of other locations that they wanted to check out first.  This was sort of true; Loki had found a town house that he desperately wanted but Thor had already declared it out of their price range. Alison saw them to the elevator.  Once the doors had slid closed Loki dropped Thor’s arm and backed away from him. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his Twitter feed.  
    “What was that all about, Loki?” Thor asked, backing Loki into the corner.  
    “What the hell, Thor? Get out of my personal space!”  
    “Yeah, exactly. So what were you up to earlier?  If you’re manifesting multiple personalities, I’d like to know about it sooner rather than later!”  
    “I was just getting that annoying realtor off of you,” replied Loki, returning to his phone. “She was practically licking her lips.”  
    “So you... so you pretended to be my...”  
    “Your boyfriend, Thor.  That’s the general term for a significant other who is male.”  
    “My boyfriend??”  
    “What are you, thirteen? That’s what I said.” Loki looked back at Thor, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me you thought she was cute. I will judge you so hard.”  
    Thor shook his head vehemently. “No, I totally didn’t and I’m grateful you, uh, scared her off.  That was just... an odd way to do it.”      
    “Really?” Loki was once more paying more attention to his phone. The gadget’s glare was playing on the angles of his face.       
    “Yeah, I mean, don’t people just normally hint about an imaginary girl or boyfriend or something?”  
    “It was easier just to be your lover than make up one.”  
    Thor reddened slightly but said nothing.  
    “We are getting an apartment together after all,” Loki continued.  
   The elevator stopped and he practically jumped out of the doors.  Loki detached himself from the wall and followed him but his eyes were on his phone. Thor reached out, like he always did, to grab Loki’s elbow to keep him from walking into walls. Thor reminded himself that some things only made sense in Loki’s mind, but that they weren’t necessarily wrong because of that specification.  


 

    After a few minutes, they located a place that passed Loki’s Five Rule Cafe Test*. They decide to wait out the line at the register and grabbed seats at a spindly table by the window.  
    “So what did you really think of the apartment, Loki?” Thor asked.       
    Loki glanced up from his phone, eyes flat with disinterest.  
    “Uh...” he sighed loudly.  
    “I’ll take that as a No.”  
    “That tart of a realtor aside it was better than the other two. But I still don’t like the neighborhood.”  
    “That’s harsh. She was just--”  
    “The most annoying person I’ve met in two weeks. I feel like giving her a freaking award.”  
    Loki’s eyes widened at the thought of this.  Thor caught the glint of pleasure in his eyes before his phone buzzed and he dismissed all thoughts of constructing garish prizes.           
    Loki began scowling at his phone. “Amora. Again. Does that woman not have any real life friends to complain to? This is the third time today she’s texted me about her former boy toy having an affair with her brother--wait. She has a brother? Since when!?”  
    He started texting furiously but kept talking at Thor, who was completely at a loss.  
    “She needs the opposite of those horse blinders... What would that be? Something that makes you get outside of yourself for ten seconds?”  
    “Empathy?”  
    “Noo... like self-preservation?”      
    “If you say so. Uh, apartments?”  
    “Yeah... I still like the 19th century town house the best. It was just pure class, inside and out.”  
    “Oh, that one.” Thor frowned slightly. “I liked it too but it was, well, expensive.”  
    “Hence the shattering of my dreams,” stated Loki and flopped his arms on the table. He then rested his chin on them so that he was draped across most of the tiny, round space.  
    Thor leaned back slightly and crossed his arms. “So what are you willing to do about it?”  
    “Kill father and inherit early?” mumbled Loki into his arms.  
    Thor smacked him on the top of his head and earned himself a cold, upward glance.  
    “Ow. Joke, Thor, joke.”  
    “But still terrible.”  
    “And futile--considering the old man is _this_ close to cutting me off altogether,” continued Loki, pinching his fingers so near each other that they looked like they were touching.  
    “He won’t actually do it. Mom won’t let him.”      
    “I know she’s your actual mother and all that but can’t you see she’s under his thumb, poor woman?”       
    “Don’t say that about mom.”  
    Loki turned his head away from Thor in silence.  
    “Well, I’ll keep you in the will then,” Thor said after a moment.  
    “Whatever. I’m going to live with you anyway so it doesn’t matter.”  
    “True,” laughed Thor. “And why is that again?”  
    “Because it would be too much trouble to break in a new roommate.”  
    “Right. And you’re used to mooching off me.”      
    “What?”       
    “You don’t carry enough cash. Ever.”  
    “It messes up my clothes,” said Loki in a matter of fact manner. “And I pay you back.”  
    “Like clockwork.” Thor tapped Loki right above his eyes. “Don’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles on your overly prominent forehead.”      
    Loki swatted his hand away with something that sounded distinctly like a hiss.  
    “Okay, little brother, go get a latte. You’re no use to us in caffeine-withdrawal.”  
    Loki huffily grabbed his phone and the proffered five-dollar bill and went to the counter. He ordered a soy latte, flirted with the blond barista, checked Twitter, retrieved his latte, barely glanced at the phone number on his cup, doused the latte in cinnamon, and returned to the table before Thor had really collected his thoughts like he had wanted to. There went another five bucks.    
    “So let’s plot,” said Loki, looking brighter already.  
    Thor wasn’t sure if it was the caffeine or the prospect of the way-too-pricey apartment.  He forged ahead anyway.  
    “Taking stock of the situation, here’s how it is. 1) You want an apartment that costs about six hundred dollars more than we can currently afford; 2) I have yet to get that job at Vindicare despite the okay interview; 3) You’re currently between jobs because your former manager is, quote, ‘a stellar example of that person who dies in zombie movies due to utter stupidity.’”  
    “Utter, _unadulterated_ stupidity, but yes.”  
    Thor watched Loki try to keep from smiling at hearing himself quoted. And grinned back when he failed.  
    Thor kept going: “So we have to figure out if the gamble is a good one. Are we both likely to get jobs soon enough, or should we look for something else?”  
    Loki tapped the side of his cup rapidly. “First of all, yes, it’s worth it. That place is beautiful. And the location is much, much more than adequate.”  
    “Hmm, yes, perfectly full of night spots where you’ll want to go and spend money,” Thor pointed out.  
    Loki bit his coffee cup lid absentmindedly. “No, I won’t...”  
    “Unless you get  a job at one of them,” Thor added.  
    “Yeah, great idea. Then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself because _it’d be job_.”  
    “Oh, like you can’t make a cocktail and listen to some band, which I’m supposed to have heard of but haven’t, at the same time.”  
    Loki squinted at Thor as if he were questioning his sanity.  
    “You have many talents, Loki, but your main one will always be the ability to multitask like a manic hydra.”      
    “Manic hydra...” repeated Loki slowly. “You know, on very rare occasions you have moments of lexical spark that make me doubt my painfully obvious adoption.”  
    “Thanks...?”  
    Loki rolled his eyes. “Except, multitasking is simply the way of modernity. You’re still living in the Medieval Ages.”  
    “It’s less stressful here, I like it.”       
    “Uh-huh. Okay.”  
     Loki went back to his phone, scrolling quickly through lines and lines of text. But Thor could see he wasn’t really paying attention to it.  
    After a moment, he put his phone down and began playing with his latte lid again.       
    “Thor...”      
    “Yeah?”  
    “I really want that town house. I’ll get a job--I’ll get two jobs. I’ll put up with people’s inanity. I won’t flirt with the boyfriends of bad tempered customers. I won’t spill drinks on posers and douchebags.  I’ll... I’ll keep my mouth shut.”      
    Loki looked up from the table. “Please.”  
    Thor knew that Loki really _believed_ that he meant everything he was saying.  And when it came to his brother, Thor still held good intentions precious. After all, he had to take what he could get.  
    He placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

 

 

*Loki's Five Point Cafe Test  
If two or more of these questions can be answered positively, the cafe is disqualified.  
1\. Does the name of the cafe begin with STAR~ and end in ~UCKS?  
2\. Is the ratio of high school students to actual people over 3 to 1?  
3\. Are 50% or more of the customers simply using it as a nice laptop dock?  
4\. Do more than 2 of the drinks have trademarked names?  
5\. Did Thor suggest it?


	2. Welcome to the Circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As more and more characters are introduced you will see why this is tagged as "Avengers Ambiguous Fandom." I'm basically writing my favorite versions of these characters. So while I'll try to make them accurate, they might be accurate to a couple different sources and therefore not completely canon per se. Major example: Clint Barton is definitely Fraction's Clint rather than Whedon's Barton. So all you Hawkeye fans reading the current run of comics will be my friends, yeah?
> 
> Chapter two is set before the first chapter because... what is chronology. And at this point it doesn't matter that much. But be aware that there will be some legitimate flashbacks and stuff, as well as chapters that take place out of order. That's just a result of this being sort of an exploratory relationship/character fic rather than something very plot-based.

    Now saying something and doing it are still two very separate things when it involves money--no matter what some people may say.  And while Thor wasn’t lying when he said he felt that his interview had gone well, he wasn’t one hundred percent positive either.  It wasn’t his fault though; people who could get a read on Phil Coulson were few and far between.  
    The interview had been the day before at the school itself, Vindicare Preparatory School. The school was the foremost educational institution of its kind: international, rather exclusive, and proud of the fact that its faculty were all very multi-talented individuals. The Headmaster kept the school on the small scale  because while he believed in his hand-picked staff, he knew they weren’t superhuman. And once the students arrived on campus things were likely to get a little crazy. In comparison to the cliques and popularity contests of the student body however, the staff room was really quite peaceful. Or rather it was until 9:30 a.m. (even in summer) when Tony Stark, the school’s youngest teacher ever, walked in.  
  
    Thor’s interview was scheduled for 10 a.m. He arrived at 9:26 a.m. and went straight to the school’s office. A slender, strawberry blonde woman sat at the desk right inside the door.  
    She looked up with a polite smile as Thor entered the room. “Good moring. I’m going to guess that you’re Mr. Odinson.”  
    “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”  
    Her lovely smile broadened. “And I thought only our art teacher said things like that.”  
    Thor reddened slightly.  
    “Well, you’re early, Mr. Odinson. And since your paperwork is all in order, I can only offer you a cup of coffee or tea and tell you to relax.”  
    “Uh, coffee would be very nice, Ms....?”  
    “Potts. Virginia Potts.”  
  
    So at 9:30 a.m. Thor was staring at the student art scattered around the office and Ms. Potts was about to walk past the door with a cup of coffee when she suddenly paused mid-step. The office door slammed open and a dark-haired man in a black leather jacket rushed in.  
    “Pepper! Please for the love of all that is holy tell me that you have that old flashdrive! I know I said it was useless but--Is that coffee for me?”  
    “No, Tony.”  
    “Who’s it for?”  
    Ms. Potts simply looked at Thor and Tony followed her gaze. His bright brown eyes locked onto Thor and gave him a quick one over. After a moment he shoved his hands in pockets and his face relaxed into an easy smile.  
    “Hey there. You’re the new guy?”      
    “I hope so,” replied Thor. “Haven’t actually been interviewed yet.”      
    “Oh, don’t worry. Nobody even gets interviews here, so you’re basically in already. And they nearly turned me down even after my interview and yet here I am. ”  
    “I see... I’m Thor Odinson, by the way. Child Psychiatry and lacrosse.”      
    “That’s a great combo,” exclaimed Tony, giving Thor a thumbs up.  “I’m Tony Stark. Electrical engineering, robotics, computer hacking, and anything else I feel like. ”  
    Ms. Potts laid a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, Mr. Rogers has your flashdrive.”  
    “What’d you give it to him for? It’s going to be stuck in some sculpture by now!”  
    Tony raced out the door without a backward glance.  
    Ms. Potts handed Thor his coffee. As she returned to her desk she said calmly, “Before you ask, yes, he is always like that.”  
      
    The interview itself was  pretty short. Mr. Coulson appeared at 9:55 a.m., led Thor to a rather sterile, white office, and sat him down in what felt like a small chair.        
    “So, Mr. Odinson, tell me about yourself. Who are you? What’s your background?”  
    Thor swallowed and began, watching Coulson carefully to see that he wasn’t boring him. He briefly mentioned his scholarships and awards but knew that wasn’t really what Coulson wanted.       
    “I come from a pretty well established family, that’s just a fact. But like many other kids in my family’s circle I wanted to be known for something that I did, rather than something my father built. I was a pretty self-centered individual for some time, but seeing what that did to me and the people around me forced me to grow.”  
    Coulson tilted his head to the side, eyes alert.  
    “That included a change of majors, from political science to psychiatry,” explained Thor. “To me, psychiatry is about helping people find all the pieces of their emotional and mental puzzles and making sure they’re fit snugly together. To do that properly you can’t put yourself above people and their problems and just order them to fix them. You have to walk alongside them and, while keeping a professional distance, let them know that you are simply a guide and helper.”  
    “So you don’t know everything there is to know?”  
    “No,” replied Thor, “Obviously not. I’m one of the best in my field by official standards, sure. But this is the human psyche we’re talking about. Nobody knows everything. Not by a long shot.”  
    “Fair enough.”  
    They talked a bit longer, about Thor’s last position (as an assistant in grad school) and his career goals and his opinions on pay grades. In the end, Coulson shook his hand firmly and walked him to the door.  
    “Pardon me, if I let you go from here.”  
    “That’s fine...”      
    “Mr. Barton will take you back to the office.”  
    “Hi,” said a blond man wearing a purple tee shirt. A man who, as far as Thor could tell, must have dropped from the ceiling to appear so suddenly.  
    As they walked down a few long hallways Barton glanced at Thor.  
    “You’re a pretty big guy. Don’t suppose you get into many fights, do you?”  
    “Not really.”  
    “Hmm,” said Barton and scratched the bandage on the bridge of his nose. “See, I have this... well... So you never have to threaten people to get them to do stuff?”  
    “No...?” Thor was honestly racking his brain to figure out the last time he had punched someone.  “I mean I threaten my brother a lot but that’s different, you know?”  
    “I guess.”      
    “Are you in some kind of, uh, trouble?”  
    Barton grinned cheerily. “Not me, some friends of mine.”  
    “Okay.”      
    “Do you like dogs?”       
    Thor looked down at Barton’s tanned face, but there was absolutely no secondary meaning to that out-of-the-blue question.       
    “Yeah, love ‘em.”      
    “Sweet.”      
    They reached the front lobby by the admin office and Barton veered off toward the gym.  
    “I’m rooting for you, Odinson” he said with a parting wave.  
    Thor waved back, shook his head wonderingly, and entered the office.  
      
    Ms. Potts was still behind her desk. But there was also a woman with fiery red hair perched on the desk talking to her in a low tone. At the sound of the door, both woman turned.  
    “Sorry to disturb you. Is there anything...?”  
    “Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Odinson,” replied Ms. Potts, rising to her feet. “You’re good to go. I will call you within a few days with our decision.”  
    “Thank you.”  
    Ms. Potts touched the red-haired woman on the arm and looked toward Thor. The woman smiled at her and slipped off the desk.  
    “Let me walk you out.”      
    “It’s okay...”  
    She held open the office door.      
    “My name’s Natasha Romanov. I teach Russian and French, and occasionally help Clint out with gymnastics.”  
    “Clint?”  
    “Barton.”  
    “Ah, with the bandages. Did you give him those?” Thor asked lightly.  
    “Some of them, yes.”  
     “Remind me never to cross you, Ms. Romanov.”  
    “A good idea really,” she replied. But after a moment, she smiled up at him. “You don’t strike me as the type to get into the messes Clint does.”  
    “I hope so.”  
    They had made it out the door and onto the path toward the street.  
    “It was lovely meeting you,” Thor said, feeling too formal as he said it.  
    “Same,” she answered. “Hope to see you back here in no time. You seem like a thinker; I like that.”  
    Thor just smiled, unable to think of something he considered good enough to say back to her.  
   
    He walked the rest of the way to the bus stop considering whether or not to text Loki. But just as he was pulling out his phone, a candy red Ferrari slowed down in front of him. Tony Stark nudged his shiny Aviators down with one hand to openly stare at Thor.  
    “Get in. I’m giving you a ride.”  
    Thor laughed and got in. “The bus isn’t that bad.”  
    “Oh I know. But what’s the point of owning a car like this unless you can show it off?” explained Tony, as he took a curve and made it dangerous.  
    “Well, it’s definitely worth showing off, Mr. Stark.”  
    His driver grimaced. “Whoa, no. Mr. Stark is my dearly departed dad. Call me Tony; I’m going to call you Thor.”       
    “Fine with me. Oh, did you find your flashdrive?”  
    “Right, right... Yeah, crisis averted. Didn’t even have to smash art to get it.”  
    Tony started humming something by Black Sabbath and sped up even more.  Thor leaned back in the deep seat and watched the clouds rushing over him, feeling much more calm after a frankly mysterious interview than he could have predicted.       
        
    At about the same time as Thor was leaving Vindicare, Loki was in the process of not-breaking up with his not-boyfriend.  As in, they would be breaking up if they had at all, ever in a million years, by any stretch of the imagination been together.  
    “Victor, stop wailing into my ear and get a life!” said Loki into his phone, as he lay sprawled on Sif’s couch. “You’re delusional. I never thought of you as anything more than a clubbing buddy.”  
    Loki reached a hand toward the ceiling and spread his fingers to examine his nails.  
    “I dance with anybody I want to, you know that. Please, this is just getting--”  
    He frowned at his pinky finger and yawned.  
    “Look, you can call me whatever nasty names you want, but we all know you’ve had the hots for your thesis partner since forever. What was his name... Roberts? Richards?”  
    Loki grinned like the Cheshire cat as Victor went ballistic on the other end of the line.  
    “Okay, checking out of the crazy house now, buh-bye!”  
    He then promptly hit _End Call_ and dropped the phone on his stomach.  
    “Is he going to come kill you now?”  
    Loki looked up at Sif, who was drying her hair in a blood red towel.  
    “Mmm,” replied Loki as he stretched languidly.  
    “And you’re okay with that?”  
    “No. Obviously. But he doesn’t actually know where I am, so...”  
    Sif sat down on the edge couch and laid a hand on Loki’s chest.  
    “You’re a freaking Tennessee Williams character, you know that?”  
    “Beautiful and ruined?”  
    “Selfish and reliant on others.”  
    “You sure know how to make someone feel good.”  
    “I mean it, Loki. You have to be careful. Some of these jerks aren’t just going to rage at you on the phone and then go back to pining over someone else. Yeah, they may not truly love you love you, but they feel something for you and that might be enough to make them do crazy shit.”  
    “Thanks for your concern, mother bear. Remind me why you aren’t dating daddy bear?”  
    Sif flicked Loki on his forehead and stood up.  
    “You’re lucky that daddy bear, as you call him, puts up with you.”  
    “Whoo hoo.”  
    “And keep your nose out of my business until I shove in front of your face, okay, baby?” she called back with smile.     
      
    When Tony dropped Thor off at Sif’s place Loki was online searching for jobs. The fact that only ten minutes before he had been trawling film spoiler sites was something Sif decided not to mention.

“How’d it go?” she asked, as Thor gave her a hug.  
    “I really can’t tell... The interviewer had the most amazing poker face.”  
    “I’m sure you were great.”  
    “Hm. The school’s amazing though. And everyone I ran into seemed really cool.”      
    “Any hotties?” asked Loki, eyes still glued to his laptop screen.  
    “Hi to you, too,” said Thor as he dropped his blazer around Loki’s shoulders. “And I dunno... Our tastes don’t seem to align on that subject.”  
    “Tell me about it,” mumbled Loki, before brightening slightly. “I found some openings at a few cafes and bookstores in the Old Town district.”  
    “Really?” Thor leaned over Loki’s shoulder to see what he’d found. Loki crossed his arms over his chest; they disappeared under Thor’s jacket.       
    “But won’t you get bored? Why you aren’t applying to the local newspapers and blogs?”  
    “Maybe I will...” replied Loki.       
    “You should!” Thor told him, hands on his brother’s shoulders. “You know words like nobody else.”       
    Loki bit his bottom lip.  
    “Are we going to get lunch?” asked Sif loudly.  
    “Yeah!” Thor confirmed. “You ready, Loki?”  
    “Be there in a minute.”  
    Sif and Thor left for the car, chatting about the last episode of _Game of Thrones_. Loki rubbed his eyes, ran his fingers through his longish hair, and picked up his phone. He then slipped the blazer from his bony shoulders and folded it gently across the arm of the couch before walking quickly out the door.  


	3. He is Horrendous, but He's My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Job interviews really are the worst. 
> 
> And then there are the interviews that involve Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No teachers in this section... sorry. Mainly just the brothers and their issues. And Sif.  
> And a few new characters you will hopefully recognize. 
> 
> (Set the day after Thor's interview at Vindicare.)

    Loki thought that every dialogue was a dance of equal responsibility.  Both parties came to the exchange as equals and, in the perfect world, left having exhaustively learned from the other. In reality Loki usually came out having felt he had won a useless contest. In other words, he was an interviewer’s nightmare.    
    This was because his thoughts on the art of speaking came in direct conflict with the point of an interview. The interviewer is generally supposed to be in the position of power and the burden of the conversation is on the interviewee.  In every case that this interviewee was Loki, things obviously became tricky. To say that Loki had been a terrible interviewee for high school internships would be like saying that World War I was a bit of a bother before tea time. After high school, Loki mellowed out slightly in interviews, simply because A) he actually wanted some of these jobs; and B) because he had a lot more opportunities elsewhere to take out his sharp wit on a captive audience. As much as he hated to admit it, two years of braces had been sort of useful. In college, Thor had ceaselessly practiced interviews with Loki and counted it toward earning patient consultation hours for some of his classes. (Something which if Loki ever found out would mean certain doom for his brother.)  
    But even with Thor’s collegiate counseling, very recent interviews had not been smooth sailing.  Loki had ended a few with lines such as: “Well, I hope this was fun, because I’ve decided I don’t actually want to work in a place that could hire you”; “So I’m going to try and do seventeen things in the next hour to make up for the negative progress we just made here”;  “You’re entitled to your wrong opinions. Good day”; and “Has anyone killed themselves on the way out of your building? Because I want to make sure at least one thing about this place will be groundbreaking.”  Interviewers usually tended to ask for transfers after a certain Laufeyson passed through their doors.  
    But that was the past. Loki was a changed man. Or at least he was planning to be one in about an hour-and-a-half when he had an interview at a bookstore run by an S. Strange and a bar headed by some guy who just said to call him Erik. The next day he also had an informal chat with the man who ran another great bar in the area. He felt like he was headed in the right direction. Slowly.  
     _Ugh_. Loki fussed with his hair in front of the steamy bathroom mirror. Then, glaring at the dark _waviness_ , he pulled various bottles out of the cupboard.  
    By the time he appeared for breakfast, hair scrupulously smooth, Thor had eaten both his and Loki’s shares of the scrambled eggs and toast and was preparing Loki’s portion again.  
    “‘Morning, sunshine,” said Thor loudly, with a mischievous grin.  
    “Shut up and fall off a bridge.”  
    “I take it you slept well then.”  
    Loki slouched in his chair at the table. He poured coffee into his mug until it was exactly half a inch away from the rim. He then poured half an inch of milk into his mug and sipped at it tentatively.  
    “Your erstwhile barista coworkers would be appalled to see you treat your coffee that way,” Thor admonished as he set down Loki’s breakfast.  
    “Who cares? This doesn’t count as coffee anyway.”  
    “Because I made it?”  
    “This isn’t a drink, it’s an essential.”  
    “We might need to talk about your caffeine addiction, Loki...”  
    Loki screwed up his eyes at Thor and generally looked so full of confused disdain and disbelief that Thor just laughed softly.  
    “I’m sorry, I know this is difficult for you right now. We’ll talk about it when you’ve leveled up to a normal-ish human being.”  
    “If I didn’t hate you most of the time, I’d say you’re sometimes a sweet person,” declared Loki with grandeur, before biting his toast.  
    “I’d settle for an okay brother.”  
    “Don’t push it.”  
  


 

    The interview at Strange’s bookstore was a bust. It was a brilliant conversation, just useless as a job interview.  It turned out that Strange, who had a doctorate in astrophysics and astro-something-else that Loki was unsure he had heard correctly, was looking for someone who could simply help with loading shipments and basic cataloguing. So no matter how much Loki exclaimed that he loved writing down series of ISBNs and lifting dangerously full cardboard boxes of dusty paperbacks, Dr. Strange shook his head gently. He really just needed some young kid for the summer and Loki was better suited for something more important.  
    “I can, however, put in a good word for you with Logan,” he said, after hearing that Loki was going to talk to the bar owner the next day. “His patrons tend to be quite an eclectic and chatty bunch. You’d fit right in. If you’re any good as a mixologist, of course.”  
    Loki smiled as modestly as he could and said, “Yes, I rather am.”      
      
    After leaving Strange’s, with a standing offer for a good chat and a cup of herbal tea, Loki walked the five blocks to the bar La Fraternité.  
    While he was still across the street he paused in front of it.  
    “It better not look this _Sound of Music_ on the inside too,” he muttered under his breath.  
    “Oh, it does,” said a soft voice next to him.  
    Loki turned a little too quickly to the blond woman right next to him and she smiled triumphantly.  
    “Don’t you know reading people’s minds is just so unfair?” he said, granting her a charming smile in return.  
    She gave him the coolest of glances. “My hearing is abnormally good, that’s all.”      
    “Does that come in handy?”      
    “Yes and no,” she said, a note of honesty slipping into her level tones.  
    Loki snatched at that and in accordance softened his smile. “I know how that can be...”  
    She seemed to look right through him with her icy blue eyes. It almost made him uncomfortable. So he pretended it actually did, touched his hair, and glanced away from her look.  
    “We should hang out sometime,” she said suddenly.  
    “I’d like that.”  
      
   Emma, as the gorgeous blond turned out to be named, already worked at La Fraternité. She told Loki, on their way to the back, that it was usually a great place to work. The catch was it all depended on whether Erik liked you or not. There were quite a number of skilled bartenders floating around who had been rejected based on personality alone. But once you made it, he made a wonderful boss. Loki smiled in conspiratorial understanding, but inwardly felt a pang of nervousness.  
    “Sorry, Emma, where’s the bathroom?”  
    “The last door before the staff room. I’ll tell Erik you’re here, okay?”  
    “Thanks.”  
    He stared into the bathroom mirror and into his shadowed eyes. _This was so stupid. Why was he getting worked up?_   Loki knew he inspired many things: envy, confusion, annoyance, lust, self-doubt, anger, and sometimes something akin to fear. But he had always had a difficult time making people really, _truly_ like him. People said they liked him, sure, but what they really meant is that they liked what he said, or they thought he was smart or attractive, or they appreciated his taste. They hung out with him because he made them laugh or feel better than others or made them feel like they meant something to him. It was simultaneously all about him and all about them in a twisted way that he was still trying to figure out. He went through friends the way some people went through hobbies: new and better ones every few months or years because the ones before never really took.  
    Inevitably he always thought of Thor and Sif at this point in his downward spiral. Sif was really more Thor’s friend that his, but she had stuck by him in some situations he hadn’t wanted to tell his brother about. And his brother? Thinking about his loyalty on good days made Loki mildly irked, and on bad days made him feel ill with regret.    
    But this was all useless. Loki shook himself angrily and left the bathroom in a rush. He walked straight into a short, blue-eyed man who was coming from the back office.  
    “I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” the man exclaimed in an educated, almost British-sounding tenor.  
    “What?” snapped Loki.  
    “Are you okay? You look like--”  
    “No. Yes, I’m fine”  
    “Oh. _Ohhhh_.”  
    The man looked up at Loki and placed his hand unobtrusively on Loki’s upper arm.  
    “He isn’t really that scary, I promise. And...” The man blushed slightly. “Well, he’s in a good mood right now, so don’t worry.”    
    Loki wanted to say something horrible in return, but found that the man’s expression was empty of the pity he had expected and simply one of trust--trust that Loki could and would handle this to the best of his ability.       
    So he simply said, “Thanks.”  
    The blue-eyed man nodded in answer and continued down the hallway.  Loki brushed a wisp of hair out of his face and strode toward the office door. Nobody expected him to be able to handle this interview. And if there was one thing of which he would never tire, it was wreaking everyone’s expectations.

 

    “So how’s the apartment hunting going?” asked Sif, as she leaned on the kitchen counter.  
    “I think we know what we want. It’s just making sure we can keep up the rent,” Thor replied.    
    “Yeah, tell me about it.” Sif made a sour face. “But I still don’t know why you’re letting Loki live with you...”  
    “You just said yourself paying rent on your own sucks.”  
    “Look, I love your little brother, but who are we kidding? He is the definition of high maintenance. And his friends...?”  
    “Are never allowed over. I already set that ground rule. And he was cool with it.”  
    “Wow, really?” Sif crossed her arms, a delicate eyebrow raised.  
    “Yep,” Thor confirmed, nodding. “I was a bit surprised too, honestly. But he’s been really chill lately.”  
    “Because you’re once more letting him have his way where it counts.”  
    “It's a lovely place. And if we really couldn’t manage it, I would have said no.”  
    “And he would have left it at that?”  
    “Well...”  
    “Uh-huh.” Sif shook her head at Thor. “You’re still wrapped around his little finger.”      
    Thor put down the cookbook he had been perusing and faced Sif.  
    “I’m _not_ , okay? I’m really not. And it’s getting _annoying_ , all these knowing faces people make. Not just you, but Fandral and Volstagg too.”  
    “Sorry, it’s just--”  
    “What? That I can’t be nice to him? That I can’t do things that make him happy sometimes? What is it about me letting him have things that rubs you all the wrong way? He doesn’t get everything he wants and neither do I! It’s called compromise.”  
    “It just seems like you get the short end of the stick like 80% of the time! What if he’s just pushing you to see how far you’ll bend?”  
    “He wouldn’t do that.”  
    “Really?! This is Loki we’re talking about!”  
    “He’s not a kid anymore.”  
    “Precisely!”      
    Thor walked away from Sif to the couch in the living room. She followed him slowly, arms still crossed.  
    “Sif, it’s not like that,” Thor said in a tired voice. He sank into the couch and gestured to the spot next to him.  
    She sat down gingerly. “What’s it like then?”      
    “Loki never, _ever_ gets his way unless I let him. Nobody ever gives him the time of day.”  
    “Your family...”  
    “My dad, I love him, but he treats Loki like shit. It makes me so fucking angry but no matter what I say he won’t let up. Mom is better but even she... well, I’m her favorite and it’s pretty obvious.”  
    Thor leaned forward and put his head in his hands.  
    “I’ve always kind of hated Loki’s biological parents because of how awful they apparently were. So awful that my dad takes it out on their kid. It’s... it’s insane, but that’s just kind of how it is.”      
    Sif rubbed Thor’s shoulders with one hand.  
    “So, if I don’t show him that I love him, and make it stupidly obvious, who will?”  
    “I guess...”  
    “No one, that’s who. Because he’s done a pretty good job making sure of that.”      
    Sif peered at Thor’s down-turned face.  
    “Oh yeah, I know he’s a little shit. Trust me, _I know_. I know the kinds of things he says to people and they have every right to hate him. But what they don’t know is that most of the time he regrets it the next day or was terrified of where a relationship was going.  It doesn’t excuse him, no, but I know why he says the things he says.”  
    “We’re all dumb when it comes to stuff that scares us. But Loki just won’t let you catch a break.”      
    Thor looked up at Sif’s concerned expression.  
    “He takes out on you what he should apparently take out on your father,” she said bluntly. “And that’s not fair.”      
    “Yeah,” Thor agreed and shrugged his shoulders. “But he’s doesn’t like going anywhere near dad and I can take it.”      
    “You shouldn’t have to.”      
    “Maybe not, but I will.”  
    “You’re a saint.”  
    “Nope,” Thor said, smiling slightly. “Just a big brother with a psych degree and too much time on his hands.”  
    Sif punched his arm.  
    “He doesn’t deserve you.”  
    Thor shrugged again.  
    “He doesn’t deserve a lot of what he’s got.”  
    Sif sighed and nestled her head on his shoulder. Thor tilted his head to rest on top of hers.  
    “Thanks for putting up with him too,” he said softly.  
    “Well, if I’m brutally honest, you two seem like a package deal and I’d hate to lose you.”  
    Thor chuckled. “Ouch, yeah, that is kind of a stinger. But thanks.”  
    “For the love of all that is beautiful, would you two get off of each other?”  
    Thor stood up immediately, his face reddening. “Loki? How long have you been here?”  
    Loki sauntered in, carrying a bag from Trader Joe’s. “Long enough to hear something about a package deal that sounded really fricking insulting. Sif, I’m taking back all my scarves.”  
    “I’m taking back my straightener!” she yelled back easily.  
    “Boo you whore,” Loki said lightly.  
    He dumped his stuff on the kitchen table and gestured at Thor, who had stuffed his hands in his pocket.      
    “Don’t worry, I didn’t see you two making out hot and heavy if that’s what you’re so flustered about.”  Loki’s eyes sparkled in genuine (albeit a bit sly) humor. “Help me with this stuff... come onnnnn.”  
    Thor took a breath and walked over to Loki to pull him into a half hug. Loki didn’t move for a second. Then he leaned his whole body against his brother, only to break away just as suddenly.  
    “So guess who just got hired?” Loki trilled, pulling wine glasses off a shelf.  
    “Where?” asked Thor.  
    “That funny bar owned by that German guy, Erik.”  
    “How was...” Sif began to ask.  
    “The interview was splendid. Dude’s a freak, but he really knows his stuff.”       
    “A freak?” queried Thor, eyebrows crinkled together.  
    “Yeah, like tyrannical about his staff, but I made the cut. He said he wanted honest answers, so I was honest.”  
    Thor looked slightly aghast.  
    Loki elbowed his brother as he passed by. “But I remembered what you told me! People don’t really mean it when they say that, so I toned it down.”  
    “Okay.”  
    “I said I wasn’t sure teamwork was my strong point, but that I was self-motivated and very willing to try anything asked of me. He said he could work with that, if my schedule is flexible. And it is. So... he said I have a job.”  
    “I’m so...”  
    “Yeah, yeah, Thor, don’t gush, it’s unseemly.”  
    “Break out the wine!” called Sif from the couch, waving her arms in the air.  
    “Done!” Loki answered as he pulled multiple wine bottles out of the shopping bag. “Open these.”  
    He thrust the bottles at Thor, who grabbed them without protest.  
    “How many you want me to open?”  
    “ _All_ of them,” Loki said, with a sharp grin.  
    “But don’t you have another interview tomorrow?”  
    Loki waved his hand at Thor. “In the afternoon! Besides,” he said, his grin sharpening ever more. “You guys need an excuse to make out more, right?”  
    Thor blushed and jammed the cork screw into the first wine bottle. Sif made a throat-slitting motion at Loki, her eyes dark.  
    Loki just laughed. He laughed so hard and long that he ended up clutching the kitchen counter for support, and his stomach because it ached. He hadn’t laughed like that in a while. But the odd look of relief on Thor’s face made him wonder--slightly, only a very little--if it was something he should do more often.


	4. And I Dream of an Imaginary Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little longer... maybe it's Tony's fault. I discovered I like writing him. But it's still mainly Asgardian issues so that stuff can happen later on. A couple new characters do make their debuts and there's sort of plot.  
> I worried over this one a bit (worrying over fluff, what?) so I hope it works. No time jumps or anything, so just get reading.

In hindsight, thought Thor, opening all four bottles of wine had probably been a mistake. Common sense had told him not to listen to his brother, but alas, as it is wont to do, common sense had fell in the face of an emotional high. Which is why he, Loki, and Sif were here: in Sif's bed.  
    Thor looked around at the orderly disarray of Sif's bedroom: books organized by size, shoes by season, and scarves by material. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the presence of himself and his brother. He watched Sif for a few minutes, as she slept on at his left side. She was wearing one of her favorite tank tops from a 10K race and pajama pants. Her back was to him and she had a peaceful smile on her face. Then he glanced to his right, at a sleeping Loki. His brother, wearing an old, stretched band t-shirt and boxers, was lying curled on his side. He was facing toward Thor and although he seemed calm enough his brows were furrowed slightly. Thor smiled down at the two of them. _Man, they are out. Well, they did drink much more than I yesterday..._  
    Loki groaned quietly and rolled over onto his stomach. His face was hidden by his arms as he stretched. He turned to his left slightly and his eyes peeked up at Thor between strands of his hair. For a moment he was perfectly at ease, sleepy but content. Thor waited, and saw the second when the rest of Loki’s brain woke up. His eyes widened drastically and he sat up in a shot, clutching a pillow to his chest in a protective gesture.  
    "What the actual fuck?!" hissed Loki.  
    Thor laughed quietly. "Calm down. You know nothing happened."  
    Loki saw Sif on the other side of Thor, blinked rapidly, and opened his mouth to say something really loudly. Thor grabbed Loki's arm and dragged him out of the room.  
    "Let her sleep," Thor ordered.  
  
  
    Once in the kitchen, Thor started some coffee, still watching his brother. Loki fell onto the couch by the kitchen and watched Thor back warily.  
    After a moment, Loki hugged the pillow tighter to his chest and asked, "Do... do you remember what I said last night? When we were still on the couch?"  
    "Yes," Thor said firmly.     
    Loki hid his face in the pillow.  
    "I was so, _so_ drunk. I hadn't had a drink in so long... and I didn't eat that much--"  
    "Don't."  
    Thor left the kitchen and sat down on the edge of the couch, and Loki bent away slightly to avoid touching him. Thor moved the pillow so he could see Loki's eyes.  
    "Either you meant it or you didn't. Did you?"  
    Loki stared at his brother, with something akin to panic on his face.  
    "You know me," admonished Thor. "So, did you?"  
    "Ye-yes," said Loki, in so soft a voice that it reminded Thor of what he had sounded like in Middle School.  
    "Okay. Thank you. I appreciate your honesty and your feelings,” Thor stated and then shook his head quickly.  “Ahhh, that sounded terrible. What I wanted to say is... I’m blown away that you feel that way. I love you too, but I wish... well, I wish things were different.  And no matter what, I will always be your brother--despite biological connection or--"  
    Loki's face twisted in a bitter smile.  
    "No, it's not that. I mean it doesn't matter to me that we aren't _actually_ brothers. I will always be by your side."  
    Thor paused and brushed little wisps of hair away from Loki's eyes. "You know we'll probably last longer than any of your other relationships, right?"  
    Loki rotated away to face the back of the couch, still holding the pillow.  
    "Yeah, I know, cold comfort that is," said Thor. "You probably just want me to shut up and leave you alone, huh?"  
    Loki didn't make any sign in the affirmative or the negative, so Thor sat there watching for anything that would tell what to do. Just as he was about to get up, Loki turned back to him.  
    "When we were brothers..." Loki murmured.  
    "Yes?"  
    "In middle school or whatever, when I _thought_ we were brothers, it was so much easier to wish it all away. And to know that because you weren't messed up you didn't feel it at all. And then..."  
    Loki's expression darkened. "Then, when your father told me I was adopted, it became a whole different beast. At first I was just in shock. I didn't know what the hell to believe anymore. But the one thing I hung onto as the world spun around me was, thank goodness, I'm not a total sicko! I'm not some insane loser in love with his brother. No, I'm just a stupid kid in love with this perfect, older guy. That I can sort of deal with, I thought, there are other people like that."  
    Loki sat up, the words seeming to come so fast his usually quick tongue stumbled on them.  
    "But then I realized there was a new problem. I wasn't okay with you ignoring me anymore. Yeah, I know, you didn't ignore me per se. But I wasn't okay with it just being me that... What if you liked me too, I thought? It would be okay. Weird, maybe, but okay, because I mean, they wouldn't shoot us or anything. And then, as time went on, and your attitude toward me never changed, I realized there was another horrible option: you would _never_ feel like I did. And it wasn't because I was your brother--if that had been the case it would have been a relief by comparison--it was simply because of _me_. It was just me after all. So I tried to kill it and I tried to hate you and I tried to just not have anything to do with you. But none of that worked. Obviously."  
    Loki threw up his hands in a final motion.  
    "You did act a bit differently for a while after dad told you” Thor said. “Wanting to spend more time together."  
    "Yeah, I was hoping that you might..."  Loki glanced up at Thor. "Did you ever...?"  
    "Not really." Thor shook his head. "I'm just not wired like that. I'm... I'm sorry. I really am."  
    Loki lay back down with a sigh. But this time he angled his body toward Thor, so that he curved around where Thor sat on the couch.  
    After a moment, Loki reached up from his relaxed position and put a hand on Thor's back. "You don't have to apologize, stupid. You can't help it, right?"  
    "Listen to you, all mature."  
    "There's this guy I hang out with who studies psych..." drawled Loki.  
    "He sounds so awesome."  
    "He's annoying and eats way too much."  
    Thor grinned and yanked one of Loki's ears gently (sort of).  
    "You're terrible but I wouldn't you trade for anything. You know that, right?"  
  "And you're the only one allowed to say silly, sappy things like that. Everyone else who tried is dead.”  
    Thor raised an eyebrow.  
    "Well, socially dead."  
    "Fair enough."  
    “Thor...”  
    “Yeah?”  
    “How did we all get in Sif’s bed?” asked Loki, trying to win an Oscar in looking unconcerned.  
    “Wouldn’t you like to know?” responded Thor with a smirk.  
    “Don’t be meannnnnn.”  
    Thor gave him a scrutinizing look that made Loki hit his brother with the pillow.  
    “Are you really a grad student?” Thor laughed.  
    “Whatever Thor. Just tell me.”  
    “Fine. So... Sif left us on the couch downstairs, right?”  
    Loki nodded.  
    “But before she left, she told me to come up if I got lonely... And don’t tell her I told you or...”  
    Loki’s grin started and stopped within three seconds. He nodded solemnly.  
    “So then of course, you sort of attack-hugged me on the couch... and told me that--”  
    “Yeah...”  
    “Once you had told me though, you got really horrible and defensive and basically didn’t listen to anything I said. So I got a little angry and left you there. Which was sort of jerk move--”  
    “For you, yeah, actually it is,” Loki commented.  
    “Okay, thanks, Mr. Dumps-People-Via-Twitter.”  
    “Thor, please! I have never dumped anyone by Twitter! That is a blatant lie!” protested Loki, jumping up to perch on his knees on the couch.  
    “Right, my mistake.  Anyway, I went to Sif’s room and knocked. She answered--I think I woke her up though--and I was like, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I just wondered if I could sleep in your bed tonight because well, to be honest, I was feeling awful because of what you had told me...”  
    Loki was holding the pillow again and rested his chin on it as he sat. He put one hand back on Thor’s shoulders.  
    “I didn’t say why, I just said we fought about something. And she seemed cool with it. But then, at like 3:30 am, I woke up to you, poking me in the side with one of your bony fingers.”  
    “What?” Loki looked scandalized.  
    “Yeah, you were a mess. You weren’t really sleepwalking, but like drunk, almost asleep-walking? At least you had changed for bed. Not sure how though. And you just asked if you could sleep next to me.”  
    Loki’s cheeks were getting pinker every second.  
    “Yep. So basically I nodded and you slipped into bed next to me and went to sleep. It’s just, of course, it wasn’t actually my bed, but Sif’s.”  
   “Which in retrospect is hilarious and sad.”  
    “Oh?”  
    “We were all in the same bed and _nothing happened_.”    
    “Loki!” It was Thor’s turn to look uncomfortable.  
    Loki made a noise that sounded rather like a giggle.  “Only you would pass up on an opportunity like that.”  
    Thor rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to deign that with a response.”  
    He got up to return to the kitchen and Loki claimed the whole couch with a cat-like flop.  
    “What’s for breakfast?” called Sif as she came into the room. “Oh ow. Is it just me or is really sunny?”  
    Simultaneously Thor nodded in friendly assent and Loki shook his head disparagingly.  
    “Did...” began Sif. “So um, did you guys make it to your beds last night? Or did you sleep on the floor and the couch?”  
    The brothers started laughing and didn’t stop for, what Sif thought, was an indecently long time.  
  


 

*     *     *

 

  
    Tony wasn’t having fun anymore. And that meant one thing: it was time for something new. In this case, it meant a new location.  
    “Anybody still able to walk get in the car!” shouted Tony. “Unless you’re somebody I pissed off within the last half hour.”  
    A dozen people of the people surrounding Tony followed him out the door.    
    “Well, this is a slight problem...”  
    There was a scuffle as people sorted out who was actually going to get in the silver sports car. In the end, six people somehow squeezed into the slim vehicle and they were off. Tony rolled down all the windows and opened the skylight to get rid of the mixed scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and cologne that wafted around them.  
    “I’m thinking milkshakes. Anybody else thinking milkshakes?”  
    The brunettes, two male, one female, agreed. The ginger did not: she was on a diet. The two blondes split the golden-hair vote: he said no, she said yes.  
    “Well, okay, how about--oh shit. Roadblock.”  
    A reflection of blue and red swirling lights appeared in the mirrors and on the interior of the car. Tony slowed down and stopped. He poked his head out of his window and looked over the top of his shades at the police officer.  
    “Can I see your--” The officer stopped and crossed her arms across her chest. “Tony Stark. You have got to be kidding me.”      
    Tony gave her an angelic smile. “Hey there, Officer Hill. Do you want to get a milkshake with me?”  
    “Everybody get out of the car. Now.”  
    The passengers complied, stumbling or stepping out as their various states of intoxication allowed them. Officer Hill called her partner over to take care of the ID checks. She leaned over Tony’s window and glared down at him.  
    “What bugs me the most, Stark, is that while you aren’t old enough to even rent a car in most States, you can buy new ones so that I still get surprised like this.”  
    Tony shrugged companionably. “It’s a really weird rule, isn’t it?”  
    “You can’t keep doing this, you hear me? You never drink, sure, but your friends drink way too much. And one day you'll get a DUI simply by association.”  
    “Yes, ma’am.”  
    “Take as many of these people as you can _legally_ carry back to their friends and then go home. Before I petition to have a curfew for every person under twenty-four with more than five cars.”  
    “Whoa, you can do that?”  
    “Let’s not find out, Mr. Stark.”  
    Tony grimaced and did as he was told: Maria Hill was scary.

 

    Correction: he mostly did as he was told. He took his new party mates back to their friends, gave them half-hugs and half-hearted promises, and drove off a little too quickly. But instead of going home, he went to the diner to which he had originally been headed.  
    Tony loved Americana. Therefore, he loved diners. He couldn’t really explain it, but he figured it had to do with his father. Although that seemed illogical in the extreme. But for one reason or another he liked anything that seemed to recall an America based solely on fast cars, open highways, and a modern manifest destiny that involved wanting to fulfill crazy dreams (rather than stealing land from people). It was like he had nostalgia for an era that he'd never even known, one he had only seen in movies. But he thought that if Steve liked something it was a safe thing to grudgingly admit liking too. Steve seemed classy and effortlessly at ease with people in a way that Tony aspired to be. But the best thing about diners, of course, was their hours. Because if you’re somebody who qualifies for Night Owl of the Century you tended to get hungry at late times.  
    “A peanut butter cookie milkshake. And water, please,” requested Tony as he sat down at the very empty counter. “Dr. Banner, what the heck are you doing here again?”  
    Bruce Banner shook his head tiredly and looked like he was the last person Tony should be asking.  
    “Oh man, you seriously need to stop telling people you can cover their random job shifts. How is that even legal?”  
    Bruce put a huge plastic tumbler of water in front of Tony, and pulled a straw from his purple apron pocket. “The managers all trust me. In a bigger town it wouldn’t work, but...”  
    “What do you do with the extra money?”  
    “Uh, pay my bills?”  
    “But you have a job.”  
    “Tony...” Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  
    “Oh. Right. Is this...?”  
    “Yes. This falls into the Normal People Problems category. So you just take my word for it and stop asking.”  
    Tony spun his sunglasses around on his finger a few times then tossed them on the counter.  
    “I need a new project...”  
    Bruce pulled open the ice cream freezer. “What happened to your last one?”  
    “Apparently Steve doesn’t need a color-mixing robot because he likes the students to do it themselves.”  
    “That makes sense.”  
    Tony scrunched his face up and tilted his head to the right. “I guess so...?”  
    “That’s part of the artistic process. It would be like having someone else choose the exterior paneling or speech patterning for one of your robots.”  
    “That’s my job. They’re mine after all.”  
    “See?” replied Bruce with a soft smile.  
    “Do you seriously know everything?” queried Tony, leaning both his elbows on the counter.  
    “I’ve just been around a bit longer that’s all.”      
    “And around people a lot longer... hah, people.”  
    Bruce nodded slightly but went on scooping ice cream.  
    Tony blew the air out of mouth in a noisy sigh. “Did you have a best friend when you were a kid?”  
    “Not really.”  
    “And that was okay?”  
    “I got along fine. I read a lot. Helped my dad with stuff.”  
    “Hmm, yeah.”  
    Bruce was examining the large, minty green milkshake maker with a puzzled expression on his face.  
    Tony leaned dangerously farther over the counter. “Is it broken?”  
    “Might be...”  
    “Really??” Tony asked excitedly.  
    He had yanked off his leather jacket and jumped the counter before Bruce could react. He unplugged the machine and started unscrewing the backside of it with a small screwdriver he had pulled from his pocket.  
    “Let’s see what’s up, Mr. Hamilton Beach...” he said--apparently to the milkshake machine.    
       Bruce watched as the short but rangy kid (he still seemed like such a kid to Bruce) methodically took apart the machine and examined its innards. He cleaned a few pieces, tapped at a few more with his screwdriver, and nearly cut himself bending in a wayward edge. Then he picked up every part and replaced it, without fail, exactly where it was supposed to be. He slid the back of the machine on again and screwed it up tight. Then Tony wiped his hands on his jeans and, smiling, hit the on button. The machine whirred awake, rattling the empty milkshake tins at an even pace.  
    “I fixed it,” announced Tony.  
    “Thanks so much, Tony. Your milkshake is on the house.”  
    “Aw, no problem,” said Tony and hopped back over the counter. “Let me know if anything else needs fixing. Retro is great as a style and all, but let’s be real, it just means this stuff”--he waved at the machines behind the counter--“is way too old.”  
    “I will definitely keep you updated.”  
    Tony gave him a double thumbs-up.  
    Bruce grabbed the scooped ice cream he had shoved back in the fridge and mixed Tony’s milkshake. When he delivered it, Tony was doodling on some napkins.  
    “There has to be a way to make a ‘bot who could make perfect frozen drinks, right? I mean, it’s one less thing to worry about at parties. No bartenders needed!”  
     “I suppose so...” Bruce said absentmindedly. He was trying to remember a time when he had seen Tony look more content than when he had been fixing that milkshake machine.      
   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested: 1. This is Mr. Hamilton Beach: (http://artifactgr.org/sara-herscher-hamilton-beach-milk-shake-maker/); 2. The title came from the Billy Joel song "Everybody Has A Dream."


	5. Even in this light, I can tell where your eyes are looking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We continue where the drama left off...
> 
> This is turning into a 1950's-1960's nostalgia AU by accident. I think it's due to imagining Tony in Aviators and leather jackets and fast cars. It seems to fit him so well. But in reality we're in that timeless modern era that so many superhero stories actually take place in.

    A proper breakfast, two and a half cups of coffee, a warm shower, and lots of hair product later, Loki was pretty sure that the awkward events of last night were fully out of his system. Thor seemed normal and Sif was back to being his best frenemy--because she too had been very amused at the thought of the three of them sharing a bed. Thor even dropped Loki off at Howlett’s Bar for his next job interview and in the car they argued over Bon Iver. So much so that Loki smacked Thor on his arm and, like usual, Thor simply made a oh-you’re-so-much-younger-than-me face at him in return. They were going to be okay.  
              
    In comparison to the questioning he had received from Erik, Loki felt like Logan frankly wasn’t paying him enough attention. The burly man started the interview by looking Loki over and narrowing his eyes a bit.  
    “So you met Strange, did you?” he growled.  
    “Yes, we had tea yesterday.”  
    Logan raised his dark eyebrows. “Tea?”  
    Loki guessed that this was not a good time to launch into a wonderfully worded tirade on tea and its benefits. Just because you can, Loki, doesn’t mean you should, Thor had said.  So he nodded and tried to keep his expression neutral. What a cretin.  
    Logan kept chatting at Loki about working with the other staff members and handling the apparently crazy customers for another twenty minutes. Occasionally he would throw in a question about a drink and Loki would perk up and answer him quite volubly.  
    At last Logan stood up and reached to shake Loki’s hand.  
    “You seem a bit of an odd one, bub, but that’s not saying much around here. Behave yourself and you’re hired.”  
    “Of course... yes, I will.”  
     
    So that’s how Loki found himself not partying on a perfectly good Friday night. Not that he was unhappy about it per se: this was where he wanted to be. Really, it was.  
    At least the worn bar’s atmosphere appealed to him. He soaked in the aura created by the mix of scratched and smoothed dark wood, the spotty light, and the warm near-smokey air. Logan discouraged his patrons from smoking inside, but many of them (including Logan himself) sported the erstwhile cigar or cigarette. And you can’t keep all the smoke out of the air when the door to the parking lot was nearly always open on a night like this.  
    Loki couldn’t remember another night like this recently. It was warm enough that he had shed his jacket when he’d walked in, but he felt pleasantly cool at the moment. It was the kind of almost-summer night that reminded him of walking across his campus after midnight and watching the sky rather than where he was going. It was a stargazing night. The kind of night when you did sort of crazy things even if you were sober. You felt younger, less cynical, and like maybe you could ditch society for a bit, because there’s no way they wouldn’t excuse you on a night like this.  
    Loki smiled at the memories that hit him every time the breeze snuck in the door and reached his face. Riding bicycles over the quad in the dead of night. Climbing a metal fence to get to the playground at a local elementary school. Stealing a sign that used to belong to a faculty building and lying to the local cops--saying that they were moving it for their literary journal.  
    He must have zoned out while remembering because he was startled when a deep voice called his name.  
    “Loki!”  
    He glanced up to see a rough pair of blue eyes.  
    “You...” sighed Loki.  
    “That happy to see me, huh?” inquired Victor, leaning his broad chest on and practically over the bar.  “Where the hell have you been?”       
    “Can we not?” said Loki and turned back to wiping off martini glasses.  
    “You have some nerve coming here--”  
    “You came here. I _work_ here.”  
    “You didn’t a week ago!”  
    “Fine.”       
    “Where are you staying? Who are you with?”  
    “None of your business.”      
    “Near here?” pressed Victor.  
    “Look, Victor,” said Loki and turned toward him. “You’re getting nothing from me, okay? So order a drink or get the hell out.”  
     “You can’t say that to me,” Victor said, his voice growing chillier. “Nobody says that to me.”  
    Loki crossed his arms over his chest and held his ground.  
    “What should I do? What you want from me, Loki?” continued Victor, voice still low but a bit softer.    
    “Absolutely nothing,” stated Loki, examining his nails with his arms still crossed. “I have zero interest in whether you are in the same room with me. Go! Go literally date anyone else on this planet. Please. Do them all at once even. I couldn’t care less.”  
    Victor straightened and stared at Loki.  
    “You really are a cold bastard, you know that?”  
    Loki gave the tiniest shrug of his shoulders.  
    Suddenly Victor lunged at Loki, his long arm making it over the bar before someone collided with his side and threw him off balance.  
    “Ow. Whoa, sorry about that, man. Guess I shouldn’t have had that last Jake Rose...”  
    A short, rangy brunet slouched against the bar, his back to Loki. He grinned affably up at Victor, who swore under his breath.  
    “Stay the fu--”  
    “Vic, it’s Friday night! Lighten up, sour puss! I’m super drunk! Why aren’t you?”    
    Victor saw a suspicious Logan approaching from the doorway and with one last glare at Loki he left in a swirl of dark green.  
    The shorter man hopped up on a bar stool and took off his sunglasses.  
    “So can I have that last drink I lied about already drinking?”  
    “Did you mean a _Jack Rose_?” asked Loki.  
    The man laughed.  
    “Yeah! Wow, I look like an idiot now, don’t I?” and flashed another grin that made Loki suspect that he didn’t really think that at all.  
    “Okay.”  
    Loki went about mixing the man’s drink, while his patron watched his every move so closely that it was beginning to get weird.  
    “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” he said finally as he poured it into a cocktail glass.  
    “Oh, I know. That’s why I’m watching you.”      
    “No kidding. I’m surprised you aren’t taking notes.”  
    “Uh, I’m recording you on my watch...” the man said. He had the decency to look a bit sheepish about this when Loki’s eyes widened.  
    “Excuse me?!”       
    “Sorry...? It’s for science.”  
    Loki’s face contorted into an expression he usually reserved for kids who mouthed off to him or Thor on Saturday mornings before 8 a.m.  
    “I’ll blur you out or pixel you or something... although that’ll make it worse in a way, won’t it?” the man said, yet another grin on his face.  
    “Whatever,” huffed Loki and shook his head in confused disgust.  
    “Oh come on,” the man said. “Can’t you give me a break after getting rid of Victor?”  
    “I was going to until you mentioned it,” replied Loki icily.  
    The man grimaced and hastily drank a very large sip of his cocktail. “It’s delicious.”  
    Loki nodded curtly.  He considered walking off to talk to the tall, blonde, and handsome on the other end of the bar, but instead he asked: “How do you know Victor anyway?”  
    “You’re going to laugh, but uh, science camp...”  
    “You’re shitting me,” blurted out Loki, showing much more of his amusement than he had wanted.  
    The man smiled and shook his head. “Nope.”  
    “But Victor’s... You don’t look... Wait, how old are you?”  
    “Twenty-three,” admitted the man, holding up a peace sign on one hand and three fingers on the other.  “Victor was one of my student teachers actually. That’s part of why it pisses him off to even see me.”  
    “Because you’re a terrible student...?”  
    “I guess. But also because I’m a genius.”  
    Loki nearly snorted. “Oh, really?”  
    The man looked very sincere and nodded. “I corrected a major engineering error that Victor had made in some ship they were sending off to space. He and his four buddies would have been fried by space radiation if I hadn’t. I was fourteen.”  
    “Oh.”  
    “But seriously, this is all boring, old history.” The man took two more swigs of his drink. “You’re a great mixologist. Has this always been your thing?”  
    “I guess, yeah. I was almost a chem major in college--the alchemy side of it was cool. But mixology is the only chemistry I do now.”  
    “Alchemy?” the man said teasingly. “You were into alchemy?”  
    “Not really,” threw back Loki. “And eventually I went into linguistics instead.”  
    “Linguistics? That’s sexy.”  
    Loki rolled his eyes. “Please. You are the millionth person to make that joke.”  
    “I apologize for being unoriginal, but not for saying it.”    
    The man leaned both his elbows on the bar.  
    Loki stepped back slightly. “I hope you didn’t come over here to flirt weirdly at me, because you are going to be very disappointed.”    
    “Actually I just don’t like bullies,” the man replied easily, shrugging.  
    “I could have handled it, flyboy. I was honestly afraid he was going to step on you.”  
    “Well, thanks for your concern. But smart guys always cover their asses.”  
    “And you’re a smart one, huh?”  
    “You betcha! Besides I really do want to learn about mixing drinks properly. And you’re the best I’ve seen in a while.”  
    “You stare at bartenders every weekend?”  
    The man’s expressive grin returned to his face. “Yeah. And sometimes I even watch what they’re making.”  
    A small smile stole onto Loki’s face despite himself.       
    “There, see? You can smile!”  
    Loki’s smile disappeared quickly. “Most people can,” he mumbled.  
    “Look, I don’t know you. Not really. But even I can tell you’re half a person when you don’t...” The man ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Uh, I don’t know what I’m saying.”  
    Loki waited. He considered this guy worth at least a few more seconds of his otherwise slow night.       
    The man looked up at Loki again and said “Fair warning, I’m a regular here. And I’m going to make you smile at least once every time we meet.”  
    Loki raised an eyebrow disparagingly. “You do realize you come off like a walking teen drama.”  
    “Well then, you’ll just have to raise my standards a little, won’t you?”  
    Loki squinted at the man. “Congratulations. I honestly can’t tell if that’s a double entendre or not.”  
    The man grinned one last mega-watt smile, slipped his sunglasses on, and jumped down from the bar stool.  
    “Story of my life, green eyes.”  
    The rest of Loki’s night was quantifiably boring in comparison. And that annoyed the shit out of him.  
  


 

    The rest of Tony’s night was sort of crazy. And (for a while) that annoyed the shit out of him. None of his ‘bots were working the way he wanted them to.  The stirring one would slosh things around, and the shaking one would do something close enough to stirring that he was pretty sure James Bond would be pissed at it. And the mess they made. Why was this stuff everywhere?  
    As he sent Dummy around the room with a mop _again_ , Tony slid his rolling chair back to his computers to check the stats once more. A notification blinked in the screen’s top right corner.    
    “Pepper!” Tony gasped, and leapt from his chair to run upstairs.  
    As he was dashing past the front hall to get to the second floor, Pepper opened the door and he froze in his tracks.  
    “Anthony?” she asked sweetly.  
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We can still make it! I just need to shower because you won’t like me all sticky!” Tony said as quickly as he could, his hands clasped together in a wide-eyed appeal.    
    “Go” she said and put down her handbag on the hall table with a clunk.  
    He sprinted up the stairs, pulling his shirt over his head as he hit the landing. He lost his pants and socks and everything else by the time he reached the shower. _Well, it wasn’t like anybody really came to visit._  
    He and Pepper were sitting in one of his red sports cars in record time. Tony maintained a pace as close to speeding as he possibly could all the way to Beck’s Drive-In. Tony had discovered Quentin Beck’s classic style drive-in theater a few months and had frequented it on nights when he hadn’t been bar-hopping with acquaintances. This Friday’s late night special was _To Catch a Thief_ , one of Pepper’s favorites, and Tony had promised her that he would finally show her his new cinematic find. Too bad he had been inspired by that tall bartender at Howlett’s to try a few new experiments for his drink-making 'bot quest.  
    Tony slowed down, drove along a dirt path, and pulled up at the small box office and manager’s building. He jumped from the car and went over to the lighted window.  
    “Hey, Quentin!”  
    The dark-haired man with a strong nose looked up from his book and waved. He slid open the small window.       
    “Good evening, Tony. You’re just in time. I was about to run a newsreel or something until you arrived.”  
    “You’re a champ. Two tickets tonight.”  
    “Two?” said Quentin and peered around Tony at Pepper.       
    “Hey, hey, she’s _my_ date,” laughed Tony.  
    Pepper rolled her eyes at this and gave a small wave to Quentin. He returned it shyly.  
    After grabbing the tickets, Tony drove to the front and center spot in the lawn. He rolled the roof off and pushed the driver’s seat forward. Pepper handed Tony her bag and coat as she moved to the back seat. He laid her things gently on the front passenger seat and then joined her.    
    “Best seats in the house, Pep.”  
    “You reserved this spot?”  
    “Yep. For Stark only vehicles.”  
    The screen flickered to life and Tony adjusted the speaker by his window.  
    “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asked, watching Pepper’s face as it was washed with moving light.  
    “No, Tony. I’m just tired, that’s all.”  
    “Really? You sure?”  
    “Yes.”  
    Pepper lifted her left arm and beckoned Tony closer. He slid to her side and rested his head on her shoulder.  
    “This movie is perfect. And it’s lovely out tonight,” she murmured, looking up at the sky.  
    Tony was still watching her delicate face.  
    “You did a good job, Tony,” she said softly.    
    He smiled into her neck and moved slightly so he could see the screen. This movie always made him want to travel to Southern France. _Why hadn’t they done that?_  
    “Pepper, let’s go to Marseilles or something.”  
    “Shh. No Tony.”  
    “Why not?”  
    “We have jobs.”  
    “So?”  
    “They’re important.”  
    “Doesn’t seem like it.”      
    “To those kids they are.”  
    “To some, maybe... But the rest? And I’m not mature enough to be their role model anyway." He poked her gently in the side. "You know that’s true.”  
    Pepper looked down at him.  
    “Then you should as least act like you are until it’s a habit.”  
    “You’re so square sometimes.”  
    “You can’t become mature overnight--”  
    “Unless you’re Steve.”  
    “Even he didn’t get the way he is by magic.”  
    “Are you sure?” Tony raised an eyebrow daringly.  
    “Yes. As I was saying, maturity isn’t something you get at twenty-one along with the right to drink. It’s something you simultaneously make yourself and earn from others.”  
    “Huh?”  
    “You have to work on being a better version of yourself as you know it. But you can’t become solipsistic. Maturity is realizing that sometimes other people do know things that you don’t.”  
    “I know that _you_ know more than I do. Does that make me mature?”  
    “Slightly.” Pepper smiled. “But you’ve known that since you were twelve. I think in your case you have to admit that sometimes you aren’t the best in a room that doesn’t include me.”  
    “Hmm.”  
    “You can do it.” Pepper gave the top of Tony’s head a small kiss. “Now shut up. Cary Grant is being clever.”  
    “Roger that.”  
    Tony returned to watching Pepper watch the movie. Then he watched the movie itself. Then he looked up at the night sky. Stars were so cool. He wondered if just stargazing would be a good date thing.  He always thought of nights with Pepper as dates, even though they weren’t _really_. But they had always been together (in a sense) and they had always gone out like this on the weekends. And he hoped, in a way that made his chest hurt, that they always would. He didn’t need anybody but Pepper. The awful question was, did she need anybody but him? He returned to watching Pepper watch Cary Grant and suddenly wondered if maturity meant that he could get along without Pepper. If so, he never wanted to be mature. Not in a thousand years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a line by Frances Stevens to John Robie in "To Catch a Thief" during the infamous fireworks scene.


	6. Burns Like Summer Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mini hiatus, guys! 
> 
> Chapter 6 happens right after the last chapter but there is tiny memory portion. I hope it's not confusing that I jump around in the third person to follow different characters. I think telling a story with this many characters from a strict third person of one character would be difficult (and less fun let's be real).

     After dropping a tired Pepper off at her place, Tony had hit the highways west of the city for a few hours.  He drove so fast that the scattered buildings were soon replaced by the reddish dirt and prickly little trees of the countryside and the constellations seemed to mix together over his head. This was yet another bad habit of his: killing the environment so he could work out his problems.  He saw a familiar turn off and yanked the steering wheel to the left, scattering pebbles and dust in his wake. He rolled along over uneven rocks until he reached the edge of a small cliff and stopped. Now for the real stargazing...  
    Tony stared at the distant points of light and let out a long sigh. The malaise was back and worse than ever. His drink ‘bot project was a like over-the-counter medication in a stupidly colored box, when what he needed was something prescription that was so good you ended up selling the extras. He could be planning for the next semester but he liked to create lesson plans week by week just because the students always acted so differently per class. And well, lesson planning wasn’t exactly the thrill he was looking for at the moment. When was the last time he’d done something important on his own?  
    The image of a very angry Victor came back to him. He’d had a few awesome Tony Moments since being fourteen, thank goodness, but that particular instance with the space ship had been pretty damn great. He still got the occasional note from Susan and party invite from Johnny... Yeah, he’d really done a good thing there. And he’d been able to do so at the expense of a guy who hated his guts. Tony smiled to himself. _Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be a Stark if I didn’t enjoy making douchebags who dislike me look dumb._    
    Thinking of Victor also reminded him of that bartender. What was his name? Victor had said it... something sort of exotic. He had certainly looked distinctive. Dark hair that skimmed his shoulders and curled teasingly at the ends. Finely sharp, sort of royal features that made Tony rub his own pert nose in annoyance. And his eyes. Green and cold and kind of easy to get mesmerized by. Actually _really_ easy.  
    Tony shook himself slightly. He had no right to be thinking of some guy when he was worried about Pepper seeing people. Well, seeing a Person. He could feel that she was divided now. Someone other than him was taking up her attention. He couldn’t put his finger on why he knew, but he freaking _knew_. They had been friends since they were kids, so of course he could tell if she was holding out on him. Ugh, but didn’t that make him sound like a jerk... Tony knew he had no rights when it came to Pepper having a girlfriend (Tony was pretty sure The Person was a girl), but he wasn’t going to pretend that he wasn’t going to have the worst case of BFF jealousy the world had ever seen. The Person was going to have to earn Pepper. And he was incomparably discerning when it came to things he knew and cared about: Pepper, ‘bots, and cars. The Person had better prepare, thought Tony viciously, as he slid down into his seat and closed his eyes.  
    He awoke to the leather of his seat burning him every time he moved an inch.  
    “Ow, shit,” Tony announced to the flatlands.  
    The flatlands apparently didn’t care. So he put on his sunglasses and turned the key a bit too forcefully. The engine roared to life and he pulled a 180 before speeding back toward town, mumbling prayers that Officer Hill was off on Saturday mornings.  
  
  
    “Thor, if I get a sunburn I will spike your shampoo with chlorine,” threatened Loki from his perch underneath a sun shade.  
    Thor just smiled as he ran off toward the sand volleyball court with Sif. What on earth had possessed Loki to think this was at all an acceptable plan for a Saturday morning? He glanced around him to make sure no one was in sight, pulled out an elastic, and put his hair into a loose ponytail. Then he settled back on his pile of picnic blankets to read. No one could bribe him enough to play sandy volleyball in the hot sun.  
      
    He still remembered being eight years old and playing on the beach with Thor all day on a family vacation. It had been a blissful day of building sand castles and being pirates and finding the most precious sea treasures--the kind of day that makes you eat dinner ravenously, fall asleep as soon as you lie down, and dream of further adventures. But at the end of the day Thor had a sunburn on his nose and his shoulders, and the rest of his uncovered skin was turning golden with a heavy dusting of freckles. Meanwhile all of Loki’s face, shoulders, arms, and chest had felt like they were on fire. He couldn’t lie on his back for the rest of the week. He had generally stayed in the house, sadly plodding around clothed in one of Frigga’s loose cotton beach shirts.  He had read through his entire summer reading list and started in on Thor’s as well. He had built extravagant towns out of Lego bricks and designed complicated governing systems for them (complicated even for his elder brother). He had attempted and failed to make a blanket fort out of the pastel, leaf-print beach house furniture. (He couldn’t get the balance quite right without Thor to hold up everything.) He had also put together every single, weird animal puzzle he had found in the drawers of the television room.  
    And he had spent a lot of time with Frigga. They had read together, both quietly and out loud doing all the characters' voices. They had drawn pictures together. They had sometimes done the weird puzzles together. They had taken turns choosing movies and watched _Sense and Sensibility_ and _Back to the Future_. They had cooked dinner and struggled through making chocolate chip mint ice cream together. They had explored the internet as a team too (although Loki was the one doing all the clicking and Frigga was mostly watching). They had even coordinated Frigga’s jewelry and outfits together.  
    Frigga had quickly noticed that Loki had an eye for mixing colors and a general knack for creating unexpected combinations that worked out in the end. When she went out to dinner with Odin on certain nights, leaving Thor in charge of the frozen pizza and burnt little brother, she always wore an outfit that Loki had put together for her. And she always told him (with a kiss on his head) that when Odin complimented her she knew it must have been due to the help of her favorite fashion adviser.  
    Loki suddenly remembered a conversation that had occurred in her room that same week. She had been sitting on the bed and he had been sitting half in her lap, facing her so he could hold up earrings to her left ear.  
    “Mommy, is sarcasm being mean?”  
    “Hmm?”  
    “Father said don’t be sarcastic when I was... uh, telling Thor he was doing his homework wrong.”  
    Frigga had smiled contentedly and continued watching Loki sort her earrings by some criteria at which she was still guessing.  
    “What did you say to your brother?”  
    “I said he was a math genius so whatever he got must be right.” Loki paused in his scrutiny and looked up at her with a confidential air. “But Thor sucks at math, you know.”  
    “Ah, really?”  
    Loki nodded slowly and then went back to examining the earrings.  
    “So you said he was good at math but he really isn’t?”  
    “Yeah.”  
    “And you said so in a tone of voice that was meant to make him feel bad?”  
    “Uhhhh...” Loki couldn’t look his mother in the eyes.  
    “Sarcasm is simply saying one thing but meaning another. But, yes, often it is very mean. Because if we say something nice or positive about someone in a certain tone of voice we make it clear that we think the exact opposite of that.”  
    “Oh.” Loki was quiet for a bit. “But why do people say something they don’t mean? Who invented sarcasm?”  
    “I don't who created sarcasm, darling. But I do know that sometimes what people want to say is too difficult. Or they don’t even know what they really want to say.”      
    “Hmph. I just want people to understand me so I say what I mean. And I always know that.”  
    Frigga had caressed Loki’s cheek. “You do now, my brilliant boy. You really do. I just hope that’s always the case.”       
  
     _If only, mom, if only._ Loki closed his book and tossed it in his messenger bag. He hadn’t talked to Frigga in while--not since violently unfriending Victor and certainly not since accidentally admitting his decades-long crush on his adoptive brother. He still cringed slightly whenever he remembered that little incident. He stuck his hand back in his bag to fish out his cellphone when he felt a presence nearby. He looked up quickly, frankly about ready to yell at the top of his lungs for Thor if it were Victor again. But he saw a complete stranger. A completely wet stranger, in very incomplete clothing. But at least that wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Loki tapped at his Ray-Bans and looked over them in a rather good impression of The Coolest Kid in School.  
    “Hello there,” said the stranger with a broad smile.  
    He was quite tall and sleekly muscular (a swimmer by the looks of his lower stomach and upper arms) and sported very manicured eyebrows and black, slicked-back hair. He was currently wearing, very short, wet swim trunks. Basically the trunks weren’t a Speedo, but they had aspirations in that direction. He also looked very much at ease despite the fact that a wet swimsuit plus the cool breeze that was picking up could equal embarrassment for some guys.       
    “Hi...?” said Loki, not disguising his questioning tone.  
    “Are you Loki?”  
    “Yes...”  
    “Ah, I thought you might be. I know Emma and she talked about you. I was just going to the squash courts and saw you and thought you must be he.”  
   _You were going to the squash courts in a wet swimsuit? What the hell?_  
    “Emma... She’s a friend of yours?” asked Loki.  
    “More or less,” he replied with an odd smile. “Anyway, my name’s Namor. I work as a lifeguard and water safety instructor here at the city rec center and occasionally at Vindicare Academy.”  
    “That’s great. Uh, so did Emma want to tell me something or...?”  
    “No, just thought I’d say ‘hey’ and tell you to tell her we met and said ‘hi.’” He smiled down at Loki, his hands on his very defined hips.  
    Loki moved his sunglasses back in place. “That’s nice of you. I’ll definitely pass that on, Namor.”  
    “You should come hang out with us sometime. I promise it’ll be way more exciting than that book you just quit reading.”  
    “Well, don’t be too hard on the book,” Loki, his smile growing slightly rigid. “Who are we talking about here?”  
    “Me, Emma, Crazy Wade, Anna Marie, sometimes Erik and his boytoy, and this guy named Tony.”  
    “So, what? Clubbing? Where do you even go?”  
    “The Hellfire Club. Off of 6th.”  
    “Oh. Cool.” _I wish I knew if that place is any good so I could give him a piece of..._       
    “Sweet. I’ll tell Emma to text you. Maybe tonight.” Namor gave a little bob of his head and then jogged off.  
    Loki watched him go--hey, there were no rules about that--but then shook his head in dismissal.  That was one of the weirdest mood whiplashes he’d had in a while. He was about to return to his book when Sif ran up and whacked him on the back.  
    “Who was that?”  
    Loki winked at her. “An admirer.”  
    “Wait, really?”  
    “I’m offended. No gossip for you.”       
    Sif fixed him with a parental look and Loki collapsed on the picnic blankets in defeat. “Fine! It’s better actually. He’s just some lifeguard friend of an acquaintance who is apparently obsessed with networking or something.”  
    “Oh.” Sif lay down next to him. “That is strange. Hmmm. Is he your type?”  
    “I dunno. Not interested.”  
    Sif looked at him and frowned.  
    “What? I’m not looking for anyone right now... I need some time to just... settle myself.”  
    “After Victor, yeah, no kidding.’  
    Loki squinted up at the clouds. “Yeah, after Victor...” _And other things._  
    Sif nudged Loki in the side. “Well, maybe I’ll go for a swim here sometime...”  
    “Whatever, girl,” Loki said slyly. “I know you’re into blonds right now.”  
    “Shut up.”  
    They didn’t say anything for a bit. Then Loki rolled over to face her.  
    “Sif... For real...” He swallowed suddenly. “For real, he’s the best. If you... if you like him, don’t let anybody else get him. You’ll hate yourself forever.”  
    Sif looked at him, her deep brown eyes wide. “Loki...?”  
    Loki turned back to the sky and bumped up his sunglasses to rub his eyes quickly.  
    “Geez, the sun is bright today...”  
    Sif touched his shoulder lightly but then they both sat up when they heard Thor approaching.  
    “Hey guys!” Thor’s shirt was drenched in sweat and his hair had dark streaks in it. “Sif, after you left these guys challenged me to a quick match and I just beat all of them by myself!”  
    “Nice,” said Sif and raised her hand for a high-five.  
    “But now I’m gross...” Thor added, wrinkling his nose slightly. “I mean it’s not the beach or anything so I dunno, but would it be okay if I took off my shirt? ”  
     Both Sif and Loki looked at each other in temporary indecision. Sif shrugged loosely. Loki tilted his head in agreement.  
    “It’s fine,” they said in unison.


	7. Colder than Hellfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus. Life got in the way. This chapter is twice as long and much more relationship-centered so hopefully that'll make up for it. 
> 
> I think I'll try to focus on the main few characters a bit more after this because I feel the ensemble cast is dragging the story a bit out of control. Or I may dedicate a few sections to certain characters during each chapter or something. We'll see...

     The owner of the Hellfire Club was a mystery.  And as much as people casually and loudly mentioned that they didn’t care who owned the place, it most certainly added to the club’s appeal.  Located on 6th Avenue, only one block away from the respectable, uptown stores and restaurants, and a good few blocks away from the dive bars and really grunge dance halls, the Hellfire Club was everything everyone wanted without the misfortune of seeming that way. The size was such that if you were a regular you knew people, but if you had never been there before you wouldn’t get too lost. The music was varied, with certain nights dedicated to different styles--everything from electric house and trance, to 80’s hits and the occasional dubstep remixes. And the bar was well-stocked and well-staffed to the point that some people actually came for the drinks and stayed for the dancing, rather than the other way around.  
      
    “Get off the bar, Clint,” Natasha repeated with a loud sigh.  
    “I thought you were trying to get the bartender over here. I’m just helping you out.”  
    “No, you’re not. You just like sitting on things that aren’t supposed to be sat upon.”  
Natasha stared a bit harder at the back of the bartender’s head.  
    “Would you be complaining if I were a hot girl? Huh?” teased Clint, crossing his legs slowly.  
    “Yes. If that hot girl were still actually you, I would still complain.”  
    Clint frowned until Natasha turned toward him with a sharp smile.  
    “But I’d be much more likely to make out with you anyway.”  
    Clint’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Double-standards!”  
    Natasha flicked him off and returned to glaring at the frankly oblivious bartender.    
    “Nat! Is Tony coming tonight?”  
    “How should I know? He’s your friend, not mine.”  
    “But you see him at school...”  
    Clint hopped nimbly off the bar once the bartender noticed him. Natasha put a graceful hand up and the man went to her instead. Clint yanked his cellphone from his pocket and dialed Tony’s number.  
    Tony picked up after two rings.  
    “Hey Clint! You need a ride home already?”  
    “Hilarious! No, party’s just starting. Why aren’t you here?”  
    “I thought about it... But if you must know, I was just out a night ago and got pulled over by Hill again.”  
    “Tony! You weren’t...”  
    “No, no. I was totally cool. But everyone else was wasted... so...”  
    “Hmmm. Yeah... Just be my personal DD and we’ll be fine!”  
    “Well...”  
    “Tony, come on! It’s just me and Nat! She’s going to get all the cute girls if you aren’t my wingman!”  
    There was a moment of quiet in which Clint heard buttons being pressed and then Tony replied: “Eh, why not? See you in fifteen!”  
    “Sweet! See you!”  
      
    After Clint hung up, he turned to see Natasha watching him from the bar. He sidled up to her with a smile.  
    “What? Jealous?”  
    “Of you and Tony?”  
    “How did...”  
    “You never call anyone but me and Tony.”  
    Clint shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Got me there.”  
    He perked up a moment later and peered over Natasha’s shoulder toward the entrance of the club.  “Whoa... assorted hotties at six o’clock.”  
    Natasha took a sip of her martini and then swiveled on her bar stool slightly to get a view.       
      
    Loki was tall (always had been) but he felt like a pretty average height when walking arm-in-arm with Emma Frost.  To say she was statuesque was the understatement of the century; she was as close to an actual Greek goddess as one could get in this particular arena of time and space. Tonight she was wearing a short, body-skimming satin dress embellished with ice-like swirls of crystals and sequins. Her make-up included diamond-like eyeshadow and lipgloss that glinted even in the low lights of the club. When she and Namor had arrived to pick him up, she had taken one look at Loki--hair freshly straightened, dressed in black skinny pants and an emerald Oxford shirt--and said they had to stick next to each other all night.  
    “We look perfect together,” she gushed. “We’ll make them all drool.”  
    Loki had grinned and tried to look as enthused as she obviously was.  
    When he and Emma walked in, she paused for a moment to scan the room (or rather to be seen, Loki thought, as heads visibly turned in their direction). Namor, mostly clothed in tight, ripped jeans and a partially buttoned shirt, halted by Emma’s other side. Behind them, Anna Marie and Crazy Wade walked in arm in arm. Anna Marie fluffed her curly hair, grinned companionably at some of the guys lounging against the bar, and headed toward them with a swing in her step.  
    Crazy Wade looked after her for a moment and then moved to stand next to Loki.  When Loki glanced at him, he received a crooked grin. Loki smiled back warily; he’d only met the man a few minutes ago. The others treated him in an amiable enough manner, but he seemed the odd one out. _Not the Alpha male,_ thought Loki _, not the best friend, and nobody’s kid brother, that’s for sure..._ Wade’s face wasn’t stereotypically good looking (and had mysterious scars all over his body) but if you cared to move beyond that he had loads of charisma--an edgy charm that came from the fact that he ran his mouth a mile a minute and truly didn’t give a shit about anything. It didn’t hurt that he was at least 6’2’’ and built like a football running back either.    
    “I used to hate this place,” Wade whisper-yelled to Loki. “But then I realized that if the punchline doesn’t work the first time you can yell another one at your mark and convince them they misheard the first time.”  
    Loki nodded, but his attention was divided as Emma began chatting with some men who looked like they should be supermodels.  
    “Hey kid, if at some point you want to be unstuck from Ice Princess, just give me a wave,” Wade offered cheerfully.    
    He then gave Loki a thumbs-up and moved off to the bar. “Anna Marie! Save some of the whiskey, will ya?”  
    “Let’s see if Erik is in his usual corner, loves,” Emma commanded with a bright smile. Loki and Namor nodded and followed her.  
  
    “She’s... wow,” breathed Clint, as he and Natasha watched the party of three (dark, light, and muscled) make their way across the room.  
    “Stand down, soldier. She eats punks like you for snacks,” murmured Natasha.    
    “I might have a chance once Stark gets here...”  
    Natasha laughed quietly.  
    “You are incredibly rude, you know that?”  
    “I’ll cheer you on but I won’t wipe your tears afterward.”  
    “I don’t know why someone as sweet as Pepper even gives you the time of day...” Clint said, pouting slightly.       
    Natasha’s eyebrows jumped and she swirled her drink slowly.  
    “Honestly, neither do I...”  
    “Aw, don’t get all Russian and depressed on me, Nat!” Clint joked, tapping her nose with his index finger.  
    “Shut up, Clint.”  
    Clint’s phone buzzed and he ran to the doorway to find Tony.    
  
      “Tony, you’re just in time!”  
    Tony smiled and smacked Clint on the shoulder. “You’ve fallen in love already, have you?”  
    “Something close anyway!” Clint replied, hitting Tony’s back in turn. “There, between the two tall guys, the gorgeous blonde.”  
    Tony stood on his tip-toes a little and leaned this way and that, but finally saw the trio that Clint meant.  
    “Well, I’l be damned...” he breathed.  
    “Right?” Clint said excitedly, putting a hand on his friend’s arm.  
    “The bartender...” Tony murmured, as if a little stunned.  
    “Wait, what?”  
    Clint tilted his head to the side and looked as confused as he did any morning he woke up lying the wrong way round on his bed. (This was actually about once a week.)  
    “This bartender I met, what was it, a day ago? He’s next to Emma...” Tony explained, taking off his sunglasses and sliding them into his shirt pocket.  
    “Emma?” Rather than dissipating, Clint’s confusion was growing.  
    “The blonde you have a crush on is named Emma. I sometimes party with her and Namor, the swimmer guy, and a couple of others. But he’s new... the bartender, I mean.”  
    “If you know her, why are we still over here?” Clint said, practically waving his arms in the air in front of Tony.  
    “You sure you want to meet them?” asked Tony, looking around the club a bit distractedly.  
    “Yes! I mean, I guess... wait, why?” Clint responded, all in a rush.  
    “They might not be your type of... they’re just kind of...”  
    Tony stopped and watched Natasha stride over.       
    “Hello, Stark. What are the odds for our patient? Will he survive the night?” she queried in her husky alto.  
    “Heh,” Tony laughed nervously. “That depends on his next move.”  
    “Tony, it’s not like I haven’t been dumped before,” Clint pointed out, rubbing one of the bandages on his face. “I’m a tough guy.”  
    “Yeah, you are,” conceded Tony, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. "The night is young!”  
    “Alright!” cheered Clint.  
    “Oh dear,” sighed Natasha.  
  
    They did not find Erik in his usual corner, so Emma and Namor--with Loki between them--began their customary tour of the room.  
    “I don’t see anyone here,” complained Emma after a few minutes.  
    “But what about all those people you just waved at?” asked Namor languidly.  
    Emma just laughed: it sounded like tinkling glass or shattering ice.  
    Loki smiled darkly as Namor rolled his eyes, because he was getting tired of this too. Sif would likely call him a hypocrite because of days past, but he was wholly uninterested in the volume of attention that Emma had garnered for them. In the end it was all superficial anyway. _Faces to be admired, smiles given and received, physiques to be appreciated, but nothing more. It’s not like any of these people matter in any way..._  
    “Emma!”  
    Emma turned her head, tugging on Loki to stop.  
    “I’m heartbroken you came here without me!” complained Tony, grinning all the while.  
    Emma’s face lit up and she drew Tony into a tight embrace. “Not on purpose, I swear! It just happened!”  
    “But, Emma,” he chided. “You’ve straight up replaced me with a better model!”  
    Tony was smiling at Loki now.  
    “Please refrain from referring to me as a mindless vehicle, flyboy.”  
    “You remember me!”  
    “You two know each other?” asked Emma, releasing Tony to reclaim her hold on Loki’s arm.  
    “That’d be pushing it,” replied Loki. “I served him a Jack Rose a night ago.”  
    “It was the best Jack Rose I’ve ever had.”  
    “What are the odds it was the first you’ve ever had too?” Loki said, a glimmer of a smile on his lips.       
    “Hey, there’s a first time for everything!” Tony said, holding his hands up in front of him.  
    “Tony!” called Namor and tossed a muscled arm around the shorter man’s neck. “What’s up, man? Who’s your buddy?”  
    “Ooh! Damn! Sorry, Clint!”  
    Tony yanked Clint forward slightly from where he had been on the outskirts of the quickly widening circle of people.       
    “This is Clint, everybody. Clint, this is Emma, Namor, and...” Tony paused and looked expectantly at Loki with bright eyes.  
    “Loki,” he said quietly.  
    “Loki,” Tony repeated slowly.  
    Clint smiled and greeted everyone and Loki swore he could see a bit of blush under his tan skin. _Cute but clueless apparently. I wonder who he came over here for. Please not me..._  
    “What do you do, Clint?” said Namor, still leaning heavily on Tony.  
    “I’m a P.E. teacher at Vindicare. Sort of new still...”  
    “What? I do the swim classes there!”  
    “That’s cool...”  Clint rubbed a bandage on his lower arm.  
   _He’s obviously out of his element,_ thought Loki. _Where’d he get all those bandages from?_  
    “You said Vindicare, right?” Loki said, looking straight at Clint so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice any higher.  
    The man nodded.       
    “My brother just interviewed there...” _Why I am bringing up Thor?_  
    “He’s not massively tall and blond and really cool, is he?” asked Clint, squinting his blue eyes.  
    “Uh, yeah.”  
    “Really? You’re Thor’s brother?”said Clint with a genuine grin.  
    “Thor? Whoa...” added Tony, rubbing a hand along his jaw.  
    “I can’t believe it! You don’t look anything like him!” Clint said laughingly.  
     _Great. Good. Well done. This is going to be a wonderful night..._  
    Tony stopped rubbing his chin and gave Loki an unreadable look before saying: “Well, Pep and I are long-lost twins and you’d never know it.”  
    Clint’s eyes widened to twice their normal size. “No. Way.”  
    Tony nodded solemnly, before bursting into laughter. “No, you idiot! I can’t believe you fell for that!”  
    “I hate you sometimes, Tony...” Clint groaned, covering his reddening face with a hand.  
    “Join the club,” Emma whispered into Clint’s ear, and then laughed when his shoulders stiffened.  
    The music changed, deepened, and it became nearly impossible to hear anyone talking.  
    “Guys,” Namor half-shouted over the redoubled bass. “Let’s either start dancing already or get the hell off the floor!”  
    “Let’s dance!” yelled Crazy Wade, sweeping in from who knows where and jostling Loki away from Emma.  
    Namor grinned and moved in on the undulating crowd. Emma grabbed his left bicep to follow him. Then Clint stepped closer to her and was effectively corralled there by Wade, who gave Loki another lop-sided grin.  
    “Congrats on separation from the mothership,” he said simply and then disappeared after the others.  
    Loki blinked rapidly at their departure. Then he felt a hand hovering as unobtrusively as possible over the middle of his back.  
    “You look a little conflicted, but I’m going to guess you don’t want to join the madding crowd,” said Tony, close by his side. “You wanna get a breath of fresh air?”  
    Loki nodded swiftly and moved away toward the front doors. It was all Tony could do to keep up with him, but keep up he did.  
  
      
* * *  
  
    Loki leaned back on the brick side of the building and pushed his fingers through his hair. For a  moment it was just soft city sounds and parking lot lights. He breathed in and out deeply... and started coughing.  
    “You okay?” asked Tony, after he sidled over.  
    “Air quality sucks.”  
    “Yeah, that happens in cities. This summer’s been pretty bad in terms of ozone too.”  
    Loki glanced at Tony but he was looking up, way past the parking lot lights.  
    “So how’d you meet Emma?” asked Loki.  
    “Just clubbing somewhere... Most of the people I know from work don’t go in for, uh, the amount of partying I do, so these guys are my buddies on the weekends.”  
    “Except for... Clint, was it?”  
    “Yeah, and even he’s...”  
    Tony shrugged and finally looked at Loki. “I suspect Nat will find him pretty quick and he’ll be okay.”  
    Loki drew his eyebrows together.  
    “Another friend from Vindicare,” clarified Tony. “You’ll know all about us soon from your brother, eh?”  
    “Hmm.”  
    “Why isn’t Thor here? He strikes me as the kind of guy who likes to have a good time...”  
    Loki sighed again. Loudly.  
    Tony’s mouth twisted down slightly.  
    Loki looked down at his companion (who was at least half a foot shorter than he) and really took in his appearance for the first time.  
    He had thought he was perhaps older, by a year or two, because of  how expensively he dressed and how he generally seemed in charge. But his brown eyes were surprisingly young, and Loki wondered if they weren’t actually about the same age. His leather jacket was top of the line, but not well cared for. It looked like it had been smudged with grease on the right pocket and was usually tossed over anything available when Tony took it off. His large watch was in better shape, but that made sense if the guy fancied himself a tinkerer.     
    Loki hadn’t come out that night looking for anything. Mostly he had come to just get out of the house and let Thor have a movie night with Sif. But he wasn’t having fun as Emma’s new accessory. He really just wanted to go home. But then this guy had showed up, and he wasn’t unattractive--though younger and shorter than Loki’s usual type. _And he appears to have some sort of crush on me already. It's annoyingly obvious in the way he has to look away from me occasionally rather than at me._  
     _Was he actually a player,_ wondered Loki _, or was he the kind who was all bravado until you got him alone? It might be fun to find out..._  
    “Hey, can we get out of here?” asked Loki, leaning over Tony slightly.  
    “Yeah, that is definitely a thing we can do,” said Tony quickly, pulling shiny keys from his pocket. “Where were you thinking?”  
    “Someplace quiet...” breathed Loki.  
    Tony started moving toward the parking lot. “Quiet... and perhaps with better air quality?”  
    “Sure.”  
    “Okay, I know just the place. Hop in.”  
    He unlocked a silver convertible and dropped into the driver’s seat.  
    Loki glanced back at the red sign of the club for a brief second, then put all thoughts of his friends out of his mind and slid into the passenger seat.  
  
    “I can put the top up if you want!” said Tony loudly as they raced down the highway.  
    Loki’s hand never stop covering his hair, but he answered, “No! I like it!”  
    He closed his eyes and leaned slightly to the right to catch even more wind. He was overwhelmed by the fast-moving air. It, along with the rumble of the engine and smell of the desert, inundated his senses. He hadn’t felt this emotion, this _carpe diem_ rush, in forever.  
    Tony turned swiftly onto a gravel path and slowed down slightly. Loki opened his eyes and looked around him. He didn’t recognize anything and that made him check to make sure his cellphone was securely in his pocket.  _You never knew..._  
    “Welcome to the 1950’s!” said Tony.  
    Tony stopped the car a bit behind their destination and Loki peered ahead at the large screen and delineated parking spots with speakers set up by them.  
    “A drive-in theater?”  
    “Yeah! What do you think?”  
    “Hmm,” Loki replied noncommittally.  
    “ It’s too late for anything to be playing, but this way we can see the stars...” Tony added, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.  
    “It is nice and quiet...” murmured Loki.  
    Tony’s smile deepened slightly.    
     _More shy when you get him alone, huh? Interesting..._  
    Loki stretched and unbuckled his seatbelt. He reached out and ran a hand down Tony’s arm.  
    “I like it,” he said, his voice low.  
    Tony’s eyebrows jumped slightly and he cleared his throat. “Cool. I’m glad...”  
    Loki moved quickly and the next thing Tony knew he was being straddled in the driver’s seat and Loki’s lips were on his neck. Once he had left his mark (and Tony breathing significantly faster), Loki moved his attentions up to Tony’s jaw and then to the corner of his mouth. Tony was still trying to decide if unbuckling his seatbelt was at all a good idea when Loki’s left hand moved to the back of Tony’s neck. That was all the warning Tony received before Loki gently bit Tony’s bottom lip and began kissing him in earnest.  
    With that, Tony’s brain restarted and he kissed back fiercely. He reached out and soon tangled his fingers in Loki’s hair. But he couldn’t leave both hands there, and soon he was trying to make up his mind whether Loki’s sharp hips or warm chest were a better place for his other roving hand.  
    Generally Tony thought of himself as the one who took the lead when it came to romantic entanglements, but he found himself quite enjoying being pinned to his seat and thrillingly mauled by this lean bartender. Loki’s possessive grip on the back of his neck and the fact that he occasionally squeezed Tony’s hips with his legs when he tilted his head to kiss deeper was making it difficult for Tony to think as clearly as he wanted to. When Loki twisted sinuously on his lap while pulling away from Tony’s mouth to look down at him, Tony had to bite back a growl.  
    But when Tony finally saw Loki’s eyes again, his heart sank. His green eyes were aroused, yes, feral and wanting, but they were sadly empty. It almost looked like he didn't really know where he was or who he was with. He smiled and his teeth looked sharper than Tony had remembered. Loki closed his eyes and rolled his head to the side and Tony had admire his strong neck even as he tried desperately to figure out how to extricate himself.       
    “Loki...?” said Tony, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.  
    “Mmmm?” replied Loki as he slipped slender fingers under his own waistband.  
    Tony silently cursed himself as he watched Loki’s fingers somehow disappear under his tight clothes. Loki grinned darkly at Tony’s expression.  
    “You like that, do you? Want me to go all the way?” he asked, his voice going dangerously breathy.    
    Tony had been at war with himself on and off for the better part of his life about one thing or another, but now he felt like he was going to self-combust with indecision. He felt, he _knew_ , he was wholly entranced by Loki, but he also knew that the longer he let this go on the worse it would be in the end. And as much as part of him screamed to just let Loki have his way, the part of him that was hopelessly entangled in the memory of Loki’s heart-catching smile just could not bear to see that vacant, hungry grin in its place.  
    “Wait, wait, hold up!” Tony nearly yelled.  
    Loki blinked twice, and his hands moved back to rest on his upper thighs.  
    “What?” he asked coolly.  
    “I just... Don’t get me wrong, I’m way, way into...”--Tony gestured wildly at Loki and the whole straddling lap situation-- “but I’m wondering if you are...?”    
    Loki’s lips quirked into something like a frown.  
    “Does it feel like I’m not?”  
    “No, not really,” admitted Tony. “But I dunno, maybe, is this too fast? I mean we only met the other day...”  
    Loki crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.  
     _Oh shit... shit shit shit..._ thought Tony. _Please don’t get mad._  
    “Please don’t misunderstand! I’m... I really... fuck!” _Better just lay it out there..._ “I think you’re witty and amazing and gorgeous, and I’m _so fucking turned on_ by the fact that you’re even in my car. But I’m not sure what you see in me and... and if that’s not a concern of yours, I mean, if I don’t really matter, then...”  _Shit, but if that is the case... would I be okay with just tonight?_ Tony wondered vaguely.  
    Loki looked down at Tony for a long moment and then opened the driver’s side door and stepped out of the car. He walked a few steps away and stopped, his back to Tony, and his arms wrapped around himself.    
     _You totally screwed up, Stark,_ Tony told himself and rubbed his face with his hands. He almost didn’t hear Loki’s voice.  
    “Tony...”  
    “Yeah! Yeah, what?” Tony sprang from the car and took a step in Loki’s direction.  
    “Don’t worry about taking me home. I’ll just call my brother.”  
    “No, don’t worry about it! I’m not going to leave you out here.”  
    “It’s fine. It’s not cold or anything.”  
    “Loki...”  
    “Please go.”  
    “I’m not mad. And I really--”  
    “Just go, Tony.”  
    “Look at me--  
    Loki swung around, his eyes dark. “I’m fine, so leave me the hell alone!”  
    Tony swallowed hard and turned back to his car. Once in, he spun off in a cloud of dust without a backward glance.      
    When Tony was out of sight, Loki dropped to the ground.  He hugged his knees to his chest and dialed Thor’s number as angry tears filled his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sparklyslug for encouraging me!  
> Dedicated to her and to theweirdasian. See what you made me do.


End file.
